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RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 




St. Mark's Cathedral, Venice. 




The Grand Canal, Venice. 



RAMBLES 



IN 



CATHOLIC LANDS 



BY 

MICHAEL BARRETT, O.S.B. 

AUTHOR OF 

"Up in Jrdmuirland" etc. 



New York Cincinnati Chicago 

BENZIGER BROTHERS 

PRINTERS TO THE PUBLISHERS OF 

HOLY APOSTOLIC SEE | BENZIGER'S MAGAZINE 

1914 






Copyright, 1914, by BENZIGER BROTHERS 



.• t 



NOV II 1914 
11 



To 

The Memory of 

A Fellow Traveler 

Now at Rest 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 
DEDICATION 5 

I 

Hamburg — Rhineland — Niederwerth . .11 

II 

Maria-Laach— Arenberg .... 25 

III 

COBLENZ— BOPPARD— MAYENCE .... 39 

IV 

Hechingen 51 

V 
Beuron 65 

VI 

IN A WURTTEMBERG VILLAGE .... 77 

VII 
DRED7ALTIGKEITSBERG — INTO SWITZERLAND . . 89 

7 



CONTENTS 

VIII page 

EINSIEDELN 101 

IX 
PFAEFFIKON— UFNAU 115 

X 
FIECHT— ST. GEORGENBERG— SCHWAZ . . 127 

XI 
VOLDERS— CHIEMSEE . ... 141 

XII 
MUNICH— SALZBURG 155 

XIII 
Lambach 167 

XIV 
PRAGUE 179 

XV 
EISENERZ— SECKAU 193 

XVI 
GRIES 205 

XVII 
Into Italy— Venice— Ferrar a . . . .219 

xvni 

Florence 243 

8 



HAMBURG— RHINELAND— NIEDER- 

WERTH 



9 



HAMBURG— RHINELAND— NIEDER- 

WERTH 

NINETEENTH century pilgrims have been 
often accused of stooping too much to 
the spirit of the age by degrading their journeys 
of devotion to mere excursions by express train 
— "personally conducted," too, it may be, by 
Cook or Lunn or Gaze. That leisurely progress 
from one monastery or shrine to another, which 
was a feature in medieval journeys of the kind, 
no longer characterizes our latter-day pilgrimages 
— so sighs the ardent lover of bygone days; now- 
adays they differ little from the usual frenzied 
rush of our present style of traveling. 

Perhaps the rambles of which these pages are 
a record scarcely deserve the title of pilgrimage; 
yet, without any pretence at medievalism, they 
constituted a leisurely progress enough, and led 
from monastery to shrine in a fashion free from 
overmuch hurry. Not that the services of Cook 
Son or of express trains were disdained; had they 
been, the journey of some two months would 

11 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

have lengthened out to years, and time is too 
precious nowadays to be squandered unneces- 
sarily. 

It was my good fortune to be invited to 
accompany a friend through South Germany, 
Switzerland, Austria, and Tyrol into Italy. Many 
of our halting-places were somewhat out of the 
beaten track, and for that reason the record of 
them may prove of interest to others. 

Our first resting stage — not a thoroughly 
Catholic one, yet — was Hamburg. It cannot be 
reached from our northern shores (unfortunately) 
without the crossing of the German Ocean — a sea 
of a somewhat turbulent nature ; let the narrative, 
therefore, of that woful passage be buried in 
oblivion. 

Many persons may possibly regard Hamburg 
(as I confess to have done myself) as a large 
and important commercial center, indeed, but one 
without much pretension to beauty as a city. 
The idea is quite erroneous. 

To begin with, the sail up the Elbe, which 
takes some three or four hours, is full of interest, 
and forms a very pretty approach. The green 
banks, dotted with villages, houses, and numer- 
ous wind-mills, are a relief to the eye after two 
days at sea. Then, as the steamer glides slowly 
on, the stream narrows and first Altona, then 
Hamburg, comes in sight. 

12 



HAMBURG— RHINELAND 

The harbor, perhaps, is not precisely beautiful, 
but harbors are principally for utility. Nor are 
the sounds that greet the ear of the most musical 
kind. Everywhere steam launches and tugs, 
puffing out smoke and fretting the water into 
foam, meet the eye, and everywhere the deafen- 
ing shrieks of steam sirens pierce the ear and 
distract the brain of the weary traveler with 
their unearthly notes. Still, as the steamer rides 
slowly into port, the very first view of Ham- 
burg is decidedly picturesque. Tall houses of 
many hues and shapes — white, red, brown; stone, 
brick, or stuccoed — border the quay. Some of 
them stand gable-end to the harbor, and with 
their many windows and quaint timber-work of 
black interlacing beams form quite a pretty 
picture. Nor does the first impression vanish 
as one becomes acquainted with the city itself. 

The streets are broad, splendidly paved, and 
well kept. The houses in the chief thoroughfares 
are often unusually lofty — rising to some five or 
six stories — and built with more or less archi- 
tectural beauty. In many instances trees line 
the edge of the broad pavement. The public 
buildings are all massive and grand; some of 
them are really magnificent. The Rathhaus, or 
Town Hall, is one of these. Its somewhat florid 
style of architecture is adorned with a profusion 
of really fine statues representing notable historical 

13 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

personages connected with the city and district. 
It is worthy of remark that a Protestant State, 
such as Hamburg, should show its appreciation 
of real worth by placing among these statues 
those of St. Ansgar and St. Adalbert. The Stock 
Exchange, the Opera House, the Art Galleries, 
are all worthy of this truly handsome city. 

A very striking feature is the large stretch of 
water in the very center of Hamburg known as 
the Alsterbassin. It is divided into two irregular 
portions by the massive Lombard Bridge. Upon 
this lake ply numerous pleasure steamers and 
rowing boats, and hundreds of swans disport 
themselves there. Venetian-like canals also inter- 
sect the town for the convenience of traffic with 
the docks. 

To a foreign eye there is much to interest. 
One strange feature is the use made of dogs as 
draught animals. We continually met them — 
great placid-looking creatures, but formidably 
muzzled, pulling a small milk-cart or a larger 
vegetable truck; the owner — man or woman — 
frequently running by the shaft and helping to 
lighten the load. 

I could not help being amused by the type of 
schoolboy one met in shoals at particular hours 
of the day. They were generally small and 
pinched-looking, their very bony legs being en- 
cased in tight knee-breeches, and they often wore 

14 



HAMBURG— RHINELAND 

linen blouses above these. They invariably car- 
ried on their heads a flat cap, set very far back, 
often of some bright color — blue, green, crimson, 
yellow, scarlet — probably the school regulation 
cap. Each one bore his books in a knapsack on 
his back, and seemed to take life — on the way to 
school — rather seriously. 

Hamburg enjoys the distinction of forming 
with the district immediately surrounding it an 
independent principality under its proper senate. 
It has a population of some seven hundred thou- 
sand, and of these not more than twenty thou- 
sand are Catholics; many of the inhabitants are 
Jews. 

The little State seems to be thoroughly well 
ruled. There is an efficient corps of police, in 
bright uniforms of dark blue laced with silver 
and black, spiked helmets. Some fifty of these 
are mounted, and relieve guard at fixed times 
at the crossings of some of the busier thorough- 
fares, where one of them sits on horseback in 
statuesque majesty in order to control the traffic 
when necessary. 

A better managed system of electric tram-cars 
could not be desired. The service is regular and 
in quick succession, and the officials, in their 
handsome uniforms of biscuit color faced with 
green and gold, are uniformly polite and atten- 
tive. Two cars are almost always attached, one 

15 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

labeled "for non-smokers" — a characteristic dif- 
ference from our custom of providing on the 
railways occasional carriages for ''smokers." The 
mention of uniforms compels me to break out in 
admiration of the artistic taste set forth in the 
equipment of some of the military. I never saw 
anywhere such gorgeous soldiers as in Hamburg. 
Dark blue laced with silver was eclipsed by a 
delicate French grey — almost lavender — with dark 
crimson facings. What "more could the mind of 
an aesthetic young officer desire? 

Of the three Catholic churches I entered only 
that of St. Mary. It is an exceedingly handsome 
new building of red brick in Romanesque style. 
Itjs fitted within with much taste and costliness. 
The Hamburg Catholics, though comparatively 
few, have the character of being fervent and 
good. To judge from the large numbers who 
approached the sacraments in the "Marien- 
kirche" on the two Sundays I was there, the 
character would seem to be a true one. What 
was especially noteworthy was the unusually 
devout and reverent way in which the altar boys 
served Mass. 

During our stay we made only two excursions 
which are likely to be of interest to casual readers ; 
and let me say, once for all, pilgrims, like ordi- 
nary Christians, have their hours of relaxation! 
The first of these was a visit to the docks. These 

16 




Hamburg, Corner of the Harbor. 




The Cologne Cathedral. 



HAMBURG— RHINELAND 

are considered the third in the world in point 
of size. London and New York alone surpass 
Hamburg in this particular. We took our places 
on a small steam launch and made the whole 
round of the harbor, then proceeded down the 
Elbe to Altona — a suburb of Hamburg, but 
situated in Prussian territory. A guide lectured 
in a stentorian voice upon the various points of 
interest as we proceeded, and the passengers 
chiefly devoted themselves to the consumption 
of tempting-looking little luncheons, which a 
pale-faced youth busied himself with serving to 
such as needed them. We boarded a huge South 
American steamer, which was just preparing to 
sail, and wondered at the luxurious accommodation 
and massive build of that noble vessel. 

At Altona we bade farewell to our launch, and 
climbed the steep hill-side to reach the tram 
which runs to Hamburg through St. Pauli. Our 
route lay through the old part of the city. There 
were many quaint brick and timber houses, 
and sometimes the very cellars, in the less 
magnificent streets, were utilized as shops — 
their plate- glass windows on a level with the 
pavement. 

The other excursion was to the Thiergarten, 
or, as we should style it at home, Zoological 
Gardens. The collection of animals had been 
represented by former English visitors as sur- 

17 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

passing any in Europe. This, however, not even 
Hamburgers maintain. The gardens, neverthe- 
less, are quite worthy of a visit, being well laid 
out and prettily planted, while the animals are 
numerous and well kept. It is unnecessary to 
dwell on the gruesome details of the lions' feeding 
time — the huge beasts purring like cats as they 
munched the bones they had snatched at with 
such ferocity — or upon the thrilling screams of 
the hyena, as he whirled round and round with 
his prize before crunching up huge ribs of beef 
as though they had been but biscuit. Rather 
would I touch upon the extraordinary sagacity 
of two of the many huge elephants which made 
their home in the gardens. One of them — Anton, 
the oldest of all — had acquired saving habits, 
and when pennies (or the Hamburg equivalent) 
were offered, kept them in his trunk as he con- 
tinued to feed on his hay. When disposed for a 
change of diet, he rang for his keeper and purchased 
a roll with his money. The younger elephant, 
being as yet something of a spendthrift, rang 
his bell forthwith as soon as he received his penny. 
But when cigars were presented they both handed 
them at once to the keeper without expecting 
any return. 

It was a strange sensation, as we left Ham- 
burg to pursue our journey, to see oneself riding 
in the train through a crowded street, foot pas- 

18 



HAMBURG— RHINELAND 

sengers and traffic being restrained for the time 
by the mere ringing of a bell to warn them of 
our approach. 

The journey on this first day of our travels 
was a long one. Our next stage was in the 
Rhine country, and to reach it we flew for seven 
hours in our quick train along the hot and dusty 
track through Bremen, Oonabriick, and Dussel- 
dorf to Cologne. Even there we could not afford 
to tarry, for our destination was further on, at 
a little town on the Rhine of no particular renown, 
where kind friends were expecting us. So with 
many a reluctant glance at the great Cathedral 
which loomed through the dusk of the September 
evening, hard by the station, we sped on for 
another five hours. 

It was during the grateful rest afforded in this 
quiet corner of Rhineland that I was able to 
visit a most interesting relic of antiquity in the 
neighborhood. On a little island in the Rhine, 
known as Niederwerth, not far from Coblenz, 
stand the buildings of what was once a large 
Augustinian monastery. Its church is still used 
for Divine worship by the people of the island, 
though the Canons have long ago departed — 
driven away in the troubles of the early part of 
last century. Their cloister may still be seen, 
with tombs of many dead and gone Augustinians 
The refectory, cells, and other conventual build- 

19 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

ings have degenerated into mere tenements for 
a laboring population. 

The fourteenth-century church is full of interest. 
In a strong iron safe in the wall of the sanctuary, 
and behind a grille of iron bars are preserved 
many valuable relics, the most striking of them 
being the very skull-cap of the great St. Bernard 
of Clairvaux, which we priests were permitted 
to take into our hands for veneration. Many 
quaint statues, of much later date than the 
building, adorn the church. A window of six- 
teenth-century glass — much prized — represents a 
local saint, Bernard of Baden, who from a secular 
noble became a holy and distinguished prelate 
in his day. 

The spectacle of a religious house, in such a 
thoroughly Catholic district, forlorn and desecrated, 
was saddening enough even to such as we who 
meet with a like example every day in our own 
land; unfortunately there are too many such in 
Germany. It was refreshing to turn to an in- 
stance of the opposite kind. The great Bene- 
dictine abbey of Maria-Laach, though not handed 
over, like Niederwerth, to secular uses, passed, 
during its later history, into the possession of 
another Religious Order — the Society of Jesus. 
The church, however, was kept closed — for it 
was government property — and the Jesuits were 
not permitted to have access to it. Some years 

20 






HAMBURG— RHI NELAND 

ago, after the expulsion of the Society from 
Germany, the old abbey was purchased again by 
the Benedictines, and through the intervention 
of influential friends the church also has since 
been restored to their keeping. 

It was not the least of the many pleasures 
afforded by our journey through the Rhine 
country that we were privileged to spend some 
truly enjoyable days in that peaceful retreat. 



21 



II 

MARIA-LAACH— ARENBERG 



23 



II 

MARIA-LAACH— ARENBERG 

THE autumn day was closing in as we drove 
up to the great archway of the Monastery 
of St. Mary by the Lake, or, as the Germans 
designate it, Maria-Laach. It forms an imposing 
group of buildings, with the varied towers and 
turrets and the massive bulk of its grand old 
Romanesque church dominating the whole. 

For eight centuries the monastery has looked 
down from the high table-land near the great 
lake which has given the place its name. It 
was in 1093 that the Count Palatine Henry II, 
Lord of Laach, summoned from the Abbey of 
Afflighem, in Brabant, a colony of Benedictine 
monks to form the first community of the mon- 
astery which he had vowed to erect upon his 
lands in honor of the Blessed Trinity and St. 
Mary. 

From age to age the Abbey of Laach continued 
to be a powerful influence for good to the whole 
district. When heresy began to show itself in 
the sixteenth century it was a stronghold of 

25 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

Faith for the surrounding country. But evil 
times came; Napoleon in 1802 suppressed the 
abbey, and for ninety years the church stood des- 
olate and forlorn. Although the German Jesuits 
were able, later on, to purchase the conventual 
buildings and the extensive property around them, 
they were never permitted to use the church. 
At length the time came when they, too, had to 
yield to persecution. The passing of the May 
Laws made it impossible for them to remain in 
the country, and Maria-Laach was again deserted. 

Now, however, the abbey is once more teeming 
with life and activity. Day by day, at regular 
intervals, from the still hours of the early morning 
till nightfall, the strains of the Canonical Office 
fill the vaults of the ancient minster; while the 
studies of the monks and the various crafts 
practised by the lay brethren have resumed their 
wonted place in the daily routine. 

A glorious building is this old abbey church 
of Laach! Few finer specimens of Romanesque 
architecture are to be met with in Germany. 
The beauty of its exterior is most striking; a 
Gothic dome is the chief feature, and is surrounded 
by many and varied towers, great and small. These 
towers held in the old days as many as twenty-five 
bells. The approach from the west is by a lovely 
arcading, forming three sides of a small quad- 
rangle and leading to the two western doors of the 

26 



MARIA-LAACH— ARENBERG 

church. The small, round-headed arches of this 
quasi cloister are supported on slender round 
pillars of black marble. 

The interior of the building has undergone 
much restoration and beautifying at the hands 
of monastic architects and artists. The vener- 
able walls are of brown, smooth-dressed stone; 
the arches are relieved with occasional blue-black 
and white stones. In removing from the walls 
their thick coating of lime wash, the monks dis- 
covered some very interesting ancient frescoes on 
two of the westerly pillars; they represent re- 
spectively St. Benedict and St. Christopher. 

As one enters by one of the western doors, the 
prominent object is the splendid canopied tomb 
of the founder, the Count Palatine Henry II. It 
stands upon a raised platform several steps higher 
than the nave, and is a very imposing work of 
art. 

The lofty roof of the nave rests on massive 
circular pillars of brown stone which carry large 
circular arches. The spacious choir and sanc- 
tuary are raised considerably above the level 
of the rest of the building. They have been 
enriched of late years by a beautiful pavement 
of white, red, and yellow marble. In the choir 
are newly erected carved stalls of unpolished oak, 
backed by a solid screen of white stone and red 
and black marble. All the work has been de- 

27 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

signed in the abbey and carried out by the Lay 
Brothers. 

The prominent object in the somewhat dark- 
toned church is the magnificent altar of white 
marble, decorated with rich mosaic work, pre- 
sented to the Benedictines at a cost of some 
£2000 ($10,000.00) by the German Emperor. Its 
shining whiteness is surmounted by a baldachin of 
marble and gilt metal, supported on porphyry 
columns. 

The monastic buildings are less ancient than 
the church, but, nevertheless, full of interest. 
Like many ancient places which have undergone 
frequent restorations and modifications, they pre- 
sent many quaint features. One of these is the 
extraordinary variety of levels on which the 
buildings now stand. To a stranger, the unex- 
pected flights of steps which confront one at 
every turn are perfectly bewildering. One could 
never determine when the ground floor had been 
reached — so intricate the progress. 

Some of the public apartments, however, are 
of striking stateliness. The Chapter House, for 
example, has been entirely renovated and adorned 
by skilful hands. Its floor is of handsome mosaic 
work in red, yellow, and black. Its vaulted stone 
roof rests on slender round columns with carved 
capitals. A dado of oak and seats of the same 
run around the building. 

28 



MARIA-LAACH— ARENBERG 

The Refectory, in like manner, has undergone 
much improvement. Here also is a groined roof 
with handsome carved bosses and corbels. This 
floor, too, is of mosaic. The long, somewhat low 
building is none too large for the ever increasing 
monastic family. The Lay Brothers alone already 
number more than eighty. 

The land belonging to the abbey is of con- 
siderable extent and is farmed by the monks 
themselves. Under the direction of the Fathers, 
many of the numerous Lay Brothers and about 
thirty farm laborers are constantly employed in 
this branch of the monastic industries. Saw- 
mills, brewery, bakery, the supervision of the 
electric installation, which supplies motive-power 
for much of the machinery and light for the 
whole establishment; the many arts practised 
in the workshops — carving, painting, glass-stain- 
ing, and the like — all afford abundance of occupa- 
tion for this family of busy workers. 

In the gardens around the abbey stand more 
than one old chapel, as well as the ancient summer 
residence of the Abbots. One of the chapels, 
now known as St. Joseph's, is the original church 
which, under the dedication of St. Nicholas, 
sufficed for the little Community which first 
arrived from Afnighem. In one of these chapels 
the farm servants assemble every day to assist 
at Mass before going forth to work. 

29 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

The lovely scenery amid which the buildings 
stand adds greatly to their attractiveness. The 
great lake, fringed with rushes and shaded by 
large trees, is always a thing of beauty. The 
varying heights of the surrounding hills, the view 
down to the lower ground in the direction of the 
railway, help to complete a charming picture. 

Our visit could only be of limited extent, yet 
while it lasted it was rendered. most enjoyable by 
the kindly courtesy with which the generous hos- 
pitality of the good monks was dispensed. When 
the time came to depart it was pleasant to make 
one's way leisurely on foot down the gentle 
incline to where Niedermendig nestles in the 
valley four miles away, with the station in its 
midst. Assiduous Brothers, driving their teams 
of plodding oxen, or guiding laden wagons, were 
already half through a morning's work, though 
the dew lay heavy on the grass, and a tingling 
of autumnal frost was still in the air as we once 
more resumed our journey and bade farewell to 
Maria-Laach. 

Coblenz was soon reached; but our way for 
the present lay beyond it. For I had heard much 
of the interesting village of Arenberg, three miles 
away from that town, and was fired with the 
desire of visiting it. One of my companions was 
easily persuaded to join me, and together we 
mounted the steep footpath which leads past 

30 



MARIA-LAACH— ARENBERG 

vineyards and cornfields and orchards, till it 
joins once more the broad, shady carriage road 
which, in more roundabout fashion, climbs the 
somewhat lofty ascent. 

Arenberg is but a small, insignificant village, 
yet it has become a place of some fame in that 
neighborhood, and attracts large numbers of 
visitors daily, during the temperate months of 
the year, to its parish church and adjacent grounds. 
Its former parish priest, Pastor Kraus, who died 
at an advanced age in 1893, expended, during 
many years of his life, much time, labor, and 
money in the erection of an extraordinary quantity 
of sacred statuary illustrative of the Passion of 
Our Lord, and the glories of His holy Mother; 
it is this pious collection — if we may so style 
it — which forms the attraction of the place. 

The church is large, and with its two western 
towers and spires can be seen from a good dis- 
tance. The walls within are almost entirely 
covered by small stones incrusted in cement. 
This feature will not commend itself to some 
minds; it gives to the church the air of a grotto. 
Yet one cannot help admiring the devotion which 
led the good priest to strive to beautify thus 
with his own hands the House of God. Many 
of the stones are geologically valuable. Over 
the arches of the nave are very fine frescoes by 
Molitor, a Diisseldorf artist of note; they rep- 

31 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

resent the various stages of the Passion. The 
striking feature of the church, however, is the 
group of statues at the back of the altar. Cal- 
vary is there represented in a most realistic way. 
Great rocks rise on either side of the altar and 
behind it to half the height of the church, and 
upon them large palm trees are represented as 
growing, while creeping plants fringe the rocks 
with verdure. Our Lord on His cross is the 
central figure; on either side are the crosses con- 
taining the thieves, while in the foreground are 
the figures of Our Lady, St. John, Magdalen, 
the holy women, and the centurion who pierced 
Our Lord's side. An angel stands on either side, 
and two others by the altar. All the figures 
are of life-size, and are beautifully molded and 
colored in the Munich style. It is impossible 
to describe the effect of this really magnificent 
group in such a position. Those who hear Mass 
in this church must surely realize better than 
others the great mystery it commemorates. 

In the baptistery are life-size statues of St. 
John baptizing Our Lord. In another part is rep- 
resented the holy manger watched by an angel, 
and in another the death-bed of St. Joseph. 
Tinted glass in the windows helps to deepen the 
effect of reality which these beautiful groups 
produce in one's mind. 

But the grounds near the church contain even 

32 







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i 'jJSw'S m If 


•i. 






Ml W ^^ 


• i a 




. * j 








1 »■ 


I •'•'•J 




'"^^^Jr^lto 


TT**"*^"^— "J IMg 




HKs- 









Abbey Church, Maria Laach. 




The Refectory, Maria Laach Abbey. 



MARIA-LAACH— ARENBERG 

more interesting figures. The side of a small hill 
is laid out in terraces. The whole space has been 
cleverly planted with trees, shrubs, and hedges, 
and broken up with winding paths in such a way 
that one gets the impression of being in a very 
large expanse of garden- ground. At intervals, 
along the main path, are the Stations of the 
Cross, in bas-relief, colored. Guide-posts indicate 
the location of the various groups — such as "The 
Sacred Passion," "The Sorrows of Mary," "The 
Life of Our Lady," etc. The groups are all 
sheltered by little chapels, many of them covered 
with the same decoration of small stones (some- 
what too symmetrically placed) which is to be 
seen in the church. The figures in the Passion 
group comprise the sleeping disciples in one 
chapel, the Agony of Our Lord in another, and 
in others the Kiss of Judas, the "Ecce Homo," 
the Scourging (this one is particularly fine), and 
many others. Some of the figures are of terra- 
cotta in one tint, others colored, but almost all 
— with a few unimportant exceptions — are really 
artistic and beautiful. 

In the group representing the life of Our Lady 
is a very fine House of Nazareth. Looking into 
one window, the spectator sees St. Joseph at 
work in his carpenter's shop; from another 
window can be seen the Annunciation taking place 
in a separate little room. This is one of the 

33 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

few chapels completely closed, in which the 
figures are rendered more realistic by subdued 
light through tinted glass. Among the other 
groups referring to Our Lady, the Presentation 
and the Espousals are the most beautiful. The 
figures in both are absolutely life-like. 

In another part of the grounds is a represen- 
tation of St. Francis of Assisi with two companions 
in a cave or hut, surrounded by animals, another 
charming little group, but surpassed by the 
single figure of St. Anthony standing in the 
open air by a pond, and represented in the act 
of blessing the fishes. 

Besides the numerous large groups in separate 
chapels, there are many smaller bas-reliefs, illus- 
trating the Mysteries of the Rosary, the Dolors of 
Our Lady, and the like. The size of the collec- 
tion may be gathered from the fact that one 
cannot wind about the maze-like paths to visit 
the various groups in less time than an hour. 

When refreshing ourselves afterwards in one 
of the many simple restaurants of the village — 
necessitated by the numerous visitors — on coffee 
and the provincial zwetschen \uchzn (flat cakes 
with ripe plums baked atop) we learned that the 
good Pastor Kraus had bequeathed the entire 
collection to the village with the condition that 
no charge should be exacted from any one for 
visiting it. 

34 






MARIA-LAACH— ARENBERG 

To judge by the effect upon oneself and the 
pious demeanor of the visitors we saw, the result 
of a quiet contemplation of these objects of 
devotion must surely be most salutary. 



35 



Ill 

COBLENZ— BOPPARD— MAYENCE 



37 



Ill 

COBLENZ— BOPPARD— MAYENCE 

COBLENZ derives its name from the Latin 
confluenles, for it stands at the confluence 
of the Rhine with the Moselle. The point of 
land where the rivers meet has been chosen for 
the site of a colossal monument to the Emperor 
William I, and a happy choice it is, for a more 
prominent position or a more picturesque one 
could scarcely have been found. The monument, 
seen at close quarters, is a truly noble work of 
art. The Emperor is seated on his favorite horse, 
and an angel leads with one hand the bridle of 
the steed, and in the other raises aloft the laurel 
crown of victory. Flights of massive granite 
steps lead up to the foot of the huge pedestal, 
which is itself a small tower pierced with galleries 
and staircases which lead to the very foot of the 
gigantic group of statuary. The figures are cast 
in bronze and are colossal in size. The leg of 
the angel, for example, is nearly as thick as a 
man's body. Yet, beautiful as these statues are 
when examined, the whole group, seen from a 

39 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

little distance, is disappointing. One cannot tell 
whether the outstretched wings belong to the 
angel, the horse, or the emperor, and the mass 
of fluttering drapery from one of the figures con- 
fuses the sky-line. 

What is really effective is the lavish extent 
of ground employed for the whole memorial. 
There is no economy of space; all is on a scale 
of vast magnificence. Flight after flight of granite 
steps, wide expanses of granite pavement and a 
massive parapet of the same material surround- 
ing the whole produce an effect of real grandeur. 
But this also can only be realized at somewhat 
close proximity. 

Across the Rhine, towering up from the right 
bank, is a monument of another kind, the famous 
fortress of Ehrenbreit stein. To reach it from 
Coblenz one has to cross the curious bridge of 
boats, 485 feet in length, which spans the river 
at that point. Portions of this bridge can be 
detached by the steaming away of certain of the 
small iron vessels that form its support; thus 
a passage is opened up the river for craft plying 
upon it. The small town of Ehrenbreitstein lies 
at the foot of the great crag which bears the 
fortress from which it takes its name. Ehren- 
breitstein (broad stone of honor) was originally 
an ancient Roman fort. It is perched on its 
rock, 468 feet high, and is now practically impreg- 

40 




BoPPAKD. 




Mayence. 




Castle of Stolzenfels. 




The Bridge of Boats at Ehrenbreitstein. 



COBLENZ— BOPPARD— MAYENCE 

nable. It is said to be the strongest position in 
Europe next to Gibraltar. Though its natural 
beauties are of a different order, its picturesque 
situation may claim to rival that of the Med- 
iterranean stronghold. After sustaining unsuccess- 
ful attacks from the French in 1632 and 1638, it 
succumbed to the army of the Revolution in 1799. 
Prussia regained and rebuilt it after Waterloo, 
and now it is capable of holding 14,000 men. 
The grim old crag, crowned with its tiers of 
bristling fortifications and massive battlements, 
seen, as we saw it, in the clear light of a Septem- 
ber noon, formed a picture not easily to be for- 
gotten. Ehrenbreitstein is by no means the only 
protection of Coblenz. The town is surrounded 
on every side by extensive fortifications, and is 
in fact one of the strongest places in Prussian 
territory. 

There are many interesting churches in the 
city. The finest of all is that of St. Castor, 
familiarly known as "Castor Kirche." While 
the French held Coblenz they turned this church 
into barracks for their soldiers; later on it was 
used for municipal purposes; now, however, it 
is again devoted to its original sacred uses. 
St. Castor's is a large and very fine Gothic 
church with two western spires. The interior was 
still undergoing decoration when we visited it; 
we found the nave obstructed by scaffolding 

41 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

which was being used for the purpose of com- 
pleting the very fine modern frescoes which 
adorn the clerestory and the space beneath it. 
The whole of the wall space is glowing with color ; 
even the lofty groined roof bears a design in 
white and blue. In the sanctuary some beauti- 
ful medieval tombs, bearing recumbent figures, 
were resplendent with scarlet and gold. The 
whole effect is one of great magnificence, but to 
my mind there was too much elaboration. The 
eye was bewildered with the variety of colors 
and constant change of design. The colors, too, 
were somewhat bright in many instances. It is 
quite possible, though, that the decoration is 
merely a restoration of medieval designs, and in 
that case criticism would be out of place. 

Our next halt was at Boppard, a quiet little 
town on the left bank of the Rhine, about nine 
miles from Coblenz. Here there was much to 
interest a traveler. The natural beauties of the 
place, to begin with, are many. The heights 
above the river — vine-clad, mostly — are very pic- 
turesque, and are made more so by the various 
ancient castles which crown them. Of these 
Stolzenfels — a few miles off — is a good example. 
The river, too, winds about here in continual 
curves and twists, and is no unimportant factor 
in the lovely scenery. 

Here are churches galore! It grieves one, 

42 






COBLENZ— BOPPARD— MAYENCE 

though, to see some put to ignoble uses. The 
old Franciscan church, for example, serves as a 
tecture hall in the training college for school- 
masters which now occupies the ancient mon- 
astery ; only the upper part of the sacred building 
— a mere loft with a groined roof — is devoted 
to its original purpose. The Carmelite church 
is still in use, though the Friars have long ago 
been banished. The lovely old black oak stalls 
in the choir are carved with statues of saints 
and decorated with floral designs and with figures 
of grotesque animals. They are considered some 
of the finest specimens of carving in Germany. 
There is an ancient carved Pieta in the body of 
the church which is very quaint and interesting; 
it is in the stiff style of early 15th century 
work. 

In the one aisle was a feature which puzzled 
us much. Two of the carved stone heads support- 
ing the groinings of the roof are said to be like- 
nesses of Luther and Catherine Bora, the nun 
who for his sake broke her religious vows. How 
they got into the architectural features of a 
Catholic church no one attempted to explain. 
My private opinion (which I kept to myself) 
was that a fancied resemblance to the two notor- 
ieties, and nothing more tangible, had originated 
the tradition. The monastic buildings attached 
to this church have been utilized as parish schools, 

43 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

and the old cloisters ring during playtime with 
children's voices. 

The parish church had only recently been 
thoroughly restored, and as in the case of other 
churches in the neighborhood the mural decora- 
tion had been renewed in accordance with the 
traces found of the original designs and colors. 
The effect, though somewhat brilliant, is on the 
whole very pleasing. The somewhat dim lighting 
of the church tones down the colors which, as 
at Castor Kirche, Coblenz, are sometimes rather 
demonstrative. Every inch of the interior, walls 
and roof, glows with color and gilding. The 
sanctuary is, of course, more elaborate than the 
rest; the harmony of colors there produces an 
effect of striking richness and beauty. The altar 
itself — elaborately carved and colored — is a thing 
of beauty. In the south wall of the chancel we 
found an interesting shrine of holy relics. 

In the process of restoration the architect had 
the good fortune to discover under the plaster 
traces of valuable frescoes of the twelfth or 
thirteenth century. Some of these have been 
cleverly reproduced. One, over the arches of 
the nave, represents in vivid colors the chief 
incidents in the life of the patron, St. Severus, 
a holy Italian weaver who was raised to the 
episcopate, being singled out from his fellows 
by the supernatural incident of a dove alighting 

44 




COBLENZ AT THE CONFLUENCE OP THE RHINE AND MOSELLE. 




Coblenz— The Old Bridge over the Moselle 



COBLENZ— BOPPARD— MAYENCE 

upon his shoulder when the appointment of a 
Bishop was under consideration. 

Another of these paintings was on the ceiling 
of one bay of the south aisle. Its subject could 
not be accurately deciphered. It represented in 
one panel the martyrdom of a number of soldiers, 
armed like Crusaders, because they refused to 
worship a pagan idol. Another division bore 
upon it the picture of St. Giles and the hart. 
It gave us some idea of the patient research 
needed to complete these ancient works of art, 
when we examined one of the frescoes still unre- 
stored. The broken outlines and faint patches 
of color which had been originally discovered 
had been partly connected by pencil drawing, 
so that out of a mass of chaotic details order and 
design were gradually emerging. 

All down the nave, over the arches, were 
quaint medieval symbols — the pelican, the pea- 
cock, the lion, etc. On either side of the western 
arch were the unusual figures of conventional 
elephants. What they symbolized I could not 
make out. The airy lightness of their gambols 
and the comic twist of their medieval trunks 
made a very grotesque picture. 

Not the least of the pleasant recollections of 
this pretty little town is the remembrance of the 
Mass said in the charming Ursuline Convent. 
The Gothic chapel, so beautifully decorated in 

45 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

gold and colors, its carved and painted altar 
forming a fitting center to its exquisite adorn- 
ments, is worthy of the noble building of which 
it forms a part. 

From Boppard we sped on to Mayence. We 
had a long journey before us next day, and could 
only manage to say Mass by sleeping in that 
city. We were hospitably lodged by the good 
Capuchin Fathers in their convent, situated in 
the Himmelgasse. The little street justified its 
name, which signifies "Way to Heaven," for 
there could be no doubt of its extreme narrowness, 
and it is from this fact that it derives its name. 
One moderately wide cab was enough to fill it 
from pavement to pavement. It was in this 
convent that I had the first experience of a custom 
familiar enough in after stages of our journey. 
All the doors bore certain mysterious chalk signs 
which much puzzled me — C.+M.+B.+. It was 
only when — mastered by curiosity — I begged for 
an explanation, that I was able to connect them 
with a certain blessing in the Roman ritual — 
Benedidio Cretae in Festo Epiphaniae, the blessing 
of chalk on the Feast of the Epiphany. The 
letters [represented the traditional initials of the 
three holy kings, who are thus invoked to defend 
their clients from harm. 

There was little time to explore Mayence, for 
our train left at nine o'clock next morning. 

46 






COBLENZ— BOPPARD— MAYENCE 

Under the guidance of a kindly Capuchin I 
managed, nevertheless, to inspect some of the 
lions. The Dom — the glorious old Romanesque 
Cathedral — was the chief object of interest. One 
longed for more time to examine its magnificent 
carvings and splendid monuments. 

A remarkable feature of the building is that 
there is an altar and choir at either end. One 
of them is devoted to parish services, and there 
the Blessed Sacrament is reserved. The choir 
has some finely carved black oak stalls in renais- 
sance style. The choir at the west end is for the 
Chapter services and the Bishop pontificates 
there. It had only lately been restored. Its 
altar is under a beautiful stone baldachin and 
stands at a much higher level than the nave, 
being approached by flights of steps on either 
side. The whole is surmounted by a fine dome. 
There are cloisters near the Cathedral containing 
many interesting relics of demolished churches of 
the neighborhood. One of the side chapels — de- 
tached from the church — contained some extraor- 
dinarily fine carved stalls, ornamented in great 
profusion with grotesque animals and rich foliage. 
In the same chapel was some splendid Gobelin 
tapestry. It was a relief to see at one of the 
side altars, where Mass was going on, a server 
vested in neat black cassock and plain white 
surplice. Everywhere else one was confronted 

47 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

with vivid scarlet cassocks, much lace on the 
surplices and a scarlet tippet on the shoulders 
bedecked with many tassels, as the ordinary garb 
of an acolyte. 

The church of the Seminary, which we also 
visited, was spacious and rich, but ugly in style. 
It had formerly belonged to Augustinians and 
the adjoining cloisters — like too many others — 
have been turned to other uses. 

It appeared that there was much to be seen 
in the interesting old city, but railway trains are 
exigent and we had to tear ourselves away to 
journey on towards South Germany. 






48 






IV 
HECHINGEN 



49 



IV 

HECHINGEN 

THROUGH Darmstadt, and on through 
Heidelberg and Stuttgart, we journeyed 
on that bright September day, with only a brief 
pause at each place, and towards afternoon 
reached our destination — the quiet country town 
of Hechingen, in Hohenzollern, where friends had 
offered hospitality. It is a tantalizing feature of 
some German railways that the authorities seem 
to have carefully arranged to conceal, as far as 
may be, the name of each particular station. One 
sees no lamps or benches or huge placards inform- 
ing the inquiring traveler of his whereabouts; as 
a rule the name of the station occurs once, and 
that on the building itself, and generally in a 
position where it can least be detected. It is 
true the name is shouted by an official, but the 
result of that arrangement is as successful as it 
is with ourselves. 

A stay at Hechingen had many charms. In 
the first place it is in a thoroughly Catholic 
district. Every tiny child who meets one in 

51 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

the street walks gravely up to the priest to take 
his hand in reverent salutation. Every grown- 
up person (with few exceptions — and perhaps 
they are Jews, who number some members there) 
and every child of riper years repeats the Christian 
greeting "Praised be Jesus Christ," or the more 
secular one of "Good morning," or "Good even- 
ing." The priest's cassock or the monk's habit 
are objects of respect rather than of curiosity 
to these devout Germans. We had met with 
almost the same courtesy in Rhineland, but here 
it seemed to be more general. 

In the second place Hechingen is a thoroughly 
picturesque town. From my bedroom window 
could be seen on the one hand a lofty round- 
topped hill, clad with forest trees, and rising 
abruptly from the plain. On its summit shone 
out the brown stone battlements and towers, 
the gilded pinnacles and high-pitched roofs of 
Hohenzollern, the cradle of the now imperial 
race. Seen in the waning light of evening the 
old schloss looked like some fairy palace, perched 
up among the many tinted clouds on its wooded 
heights. 

On another side I could get a glimpse of the 
upper part of the little town. White walls, inter- 
laced with beams, and surmounted by red roofs 
of every shape and shade, rose one above the 
other on the side of the steep ascent, and at the 

52 



HECHINGEN 

summit the quaint pagoda-like tower of the 
parish church formed the apex. This, too, was 
a picture worthy of a painter. 

Nor did the place lose anything of its pic- 
turesqueness on closer acquaintance. A morning's 
climb up the steep road revealed many new 
charms. So steep is the ascent that in some 
places the pavement is a veritable staircase of 
stone-paved steps. There was a market going 
on round about the church, and the place was 
all astir. On the lower ground I had passed 
through groups of pigs and cattle, and threaded 
my way through numerous wagons drawn by 
oxen, which impeded progress. Here on the 
heights were other kinds of merchandise — hard- 
ware, eatables, and above all, boots and shoes 
were being vended from the lines of stalls on either 
side the carriage road, and down by the church 
wall. Here and there a friendly doorstep formed 
a convenient seat from which to try on a probable 
purchase, while friendly neighbors stood around 
and gave unsolicited, but unresented, opinions 
as to quality and fit. 

The parish church proved to be rather a fine 
building in classical style. It is only about a 
hundred years old, and was erected by the Prince 
of Hohenzollern. It had lately been restored and 
looked quite new and shining. There were some 
lovely stalls of inlaid work in the sanctuary. 

53 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

This church is the recognized place of burial for 
the family. A winding road leads by an easier 
descent from the hill whereon the church stands 
to the lower part of the little town. I can recall 
vividly the whizz of myriad grasshoppers which 
greeted my ears on this downward path on an 
appallingly hot day. With the thermometer at 
something like 80 degrees in the shade, and the 
whole country white and parched in the sun, 
the sound suggested that the earth was simmering 
in the intense heat. And for two or three days 
the heat lasted, till the blessed rain came to cool 
the air and to disperse the vicious mosquito-like 
gnats that had made our nights a terror. 

There were other interesting churches in the 
town besides the parish church. One quaint 
little place I discovered on the lower ground 
containing a statue of the Holy Infant of Prague — 
a favorite devotion in these parts — much dec- 
orated with jewels and enclosed in a glass case. 

There were no less than three Houses of 
St. Vincent's Sisters of Charity in that little 
place. One was the hospital, and it was in the 
chapel there that I always said Mass. It was 
a curious little semi-circular building with a 
dome over the altar; needless to say it was 
shiningly clean and neat in every particular. 
It was in this hospital that we visited more 
than once a poor Italian youth who had come 

54 



HECHINGEN 

there to work as a navvy on the railway. He 
was dying of heart disease among total strangers 
who knew but a few words of his native tongue, 
yet he was quite resigned and happy in the 
midst of terrible sufferings and grateful to the 
good Sisters for their loving care. He had no 
living relatives, and therefore no ties to bind 
him longer to life. Before many weeks had passed 
he had gone to his reward. I believe a second 
House of the same Order was also a hospital, and 
a third was an orphanage. All of them had been 
endowed by a Prince of Hohenzollern. 

Wandering about one afternoon I came upon 
a little inn in the outskirts, bearing the sign 
"Zum Klosterle "— " The Little Monastery." It 
recalled to my mind what one of our friends had 
remarked, that there was a very interesting 
Franciscan church just outside the town. This 
seemed to be the indication of its whereabouts. 
Opposite to the inn stood one of the little way- 
side chapels, so common in Catholic Germany, 
containing a Pieta and many statues and prints 
of different saints of varying sizes and all very 
highly colored, protected by an iron grating. 

Several countrywomen with market baskets 
were telling their beads within as I entered to 
pay my devotions and then inspect. A statue 
of St. Francis confirmed my hopes that I was 
on the right track, and I turned up the pretty, 

55 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

secluded lane, shaded by tall chestnut trees all 
in a row, which led off from the main road close 
to the chapel. Presently I came to an "Ecce 
Homo," carved and colored, and protected by 
a wooden shrine with an overhanging roof and 
an iron grille in front. By-and-by appeared 
Stations of the Cross in the same style, placed 
at intervals beside the paved path. Each was 
protected by its own little wooden building, 
with grating in front, and each had a low wooden 
kneeling bench before it. The representations 
were in high relief, carved from wood and bril- 
liantly colored. They were very quaint, though 
not inartistic. The chief figures were generally 
very pleasing, but the executioners were excep- 
tionally grotesque. Their murderous, scowling 
faces bore mustaches which suggested the villains 
of a "penny gaff" theater. Some of them were 
shooting out their tongues in derision. Though 
they were calculated to provoke a criticizing 
smile, they were really very effective as villains, 
and no doubt the artist, by treating His tor- 
mentors in so realistic a style, had intended to 
convey a vivid impression of the cruelty with 
which Our Blessed Lord was treated on that 
sorrowful journey, as well as of the malice of 
sinners in causing the Passion. 

At last the church itself appeared, peeping 
from its sheltering trees. At the entrance of the 

56 



HECHINGEN 

churchyard was a larger chapel containing an 
altar. On either side the door was a large 
figure in a niche, protected also by a grating. 
They were~th e penitents, Peter and Magdalen. 
I am bound to say with truth that neither of 
them impressed me. The latter especially was 
decidedly wanting in beauty, although her bright 
robes and the strings of gold beads round her 
neck would probably atone for the defect with 
less critical worshippers. Within this chapel was 
a large figure of the Dead Christ to form the 
last Station, while upon an open terrace over it, 
approached by a flight of steps, a large crucifix, 
with life-sized figures of Our Lady and St. John, 
represented the twelfth Station. A fifteenth, 
representing St. Helen with the Cross, commonly 
met with in Germany, was to be seen in its proper 
position here also. 

I saw few sanctuaries in Germany which 
affected me more than this little, deserted Fran- 
ciscan church. Its faithful ministers had long 
ago been driven away ; their monastery now formed 
part of a brewery whose huge brick buildings 
arose hard by, belching out clouds of steam and 
smoke. Only a portion of the old cloister seemed 
to be in connection with the church, as a sort 
of impromptu sacristy. The little place looked 
very touching in its abandonment. Mass was 
no longer said there daily; I think one of the 

57 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

clergy went from the parish church once during 
each week. But St. Francis' Day was at hand, 
so it was swept and garnished for the High Mass 
and sermon which the clergy of Hechingen would 
celebrate in honor of the Patron's festival. The 
six deserted confessionals would — some of them 
— be in use on the occasion, and for a time the 
life which once animated the place would revive. 

What a quaint old church it was! Besides 
the high altar there were three others — one on 
either side the chancel-arch, and one in a side- 
chapel in honor of St. Anthony. The latter was 
surmounted by a large, faded painting of the 
Wonder Worker, framed — perhaps for the com- 
ing festa — with a wreath of evidently artificial 
roses, with intensely pink blossoms and vividly 
green leaves, which served to obscure still more 
the dim outlines of the saint. Over his own 
altar was a representation of St. Francis receiv- 
ing the stigmata — red cords from the wounds 
on the large altar-crucifix being stretched to 
those of the saint. There were at least two, 
if not three, statues of Our Lady. The chief 
one, over the high altar, was dressed in quite a 
modern-looking gown of pale blue silk with 
rather a tight waist, much trimmed with silver. 
The statue was also adorned with frizzed,"flaxen 
hair, appearing from the front of the lace veil 
which covered the head, and this, with the strands 

58 






HECHINGEN 

of gilded beads round the neck, helped to accent- 
uate the modern appearance of the figure, which, 
to my taste, looked less calculated to inspire 
devotion than anything in the church. An ancient 
Madonna of dark wood, in another part of the 
sanctuary, shrouded in a lace window-curtain, 
and with a veritable bunch of votive rosaries 
in the hand of the Holy Child, was, in my opinion, 
far preferable. 

Round the little church, high on the walls — 
it had no aisles — were large stucco figures of Our 
Lady, St. John, St. Helen with the Cross, St. 
Peter, St. Paul, St. Lawrence, and St. Sebastian. 
From inscriptions over them it was evident that 
they represented the Seven Stational Churches of 
Rome — St. Mary Major, St. John Lateran, Sta. 
Croce, St. Peter's, St. Paul's, St. Lawrence's, and 
St. Sebastian's. Probably the indulgences of the 
Stations could be gained in this, as in many 
Franciscan churches. 

Upon the altar were six huge reliquaries — so 
large that they almost shook my faith in the 
authenticity of the relics they held, for there 
seemed to be a whole body, skull included, in 
each one, to judge from the size and number 
of the bones displayed by their glass fronts. 

Everywhere were paper roses galore, many of 
them very much faded; bouquets of them stood 
between the high altar candlesticks, and garlands 

59 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

of them adorned pictures. These and some of 
the other decorations, such as green and pink 
painting in imitation of marble on the altar 
frontal and the choir stalls — too evidently arti- 
ficial to deceive even a child — were rather a 
shock to one's taste. Full-grown angels too — 
perched (like circus-riders on a bare-backed steed) 
on the extreme edge of cornices to altars — with 
floating blue robes, revealing a good deal of 
bare limb, and large gilded wings unfurled for 
flight, were somewhat trying to one's gravity. 

Yet, in spite of its renaissance architecture 
and the atrocious taste of some of its fittings, I 
loved the dear old place. The spirit of the 
"poor man of Assisi" seemed to clothe it with 
a charm which made all these minor trivialities 
of little account. Luckily our tastes are not all 
identical, and no doubt many of the simple souls 
who come here to pray find an incentive to devo- 
tion in objects which to the more worldly mind 
savor rather of the ridiculous than the sublime. 

Some such simple souls I met as I wended my 
way homeward. Several groups were making the 
Stations of the Cross; a man or two, with the 
female members of the family, forming each. 
It was curious to note that though all joined 
with devotion in the vocal prayers — rosary in 
hand — it was generally the woman (perhaps the 
hausfrau or mistress of the house) who with 

60 



HECHINGEN 

more or less difficulty spelled out the prescribed 
formulas from a well-thumbed prayer-book, while 
the rest devoutly listened. 

It required quite a wrench to tear oneself away 
from Hechingen, so many and varied were its 
attractions — the society of its courteous clergy, 
the charming simplicity of its good religious, the 
geniality of its people, the ever-changing aspects 
of its lovely scenery, the quaintness of its build- 
ings. But other engagements pressed upon us, 
and the day dawned all too soon which saw us 
take our places reluctantly in the train which 
was to whirl us along, far from the sight of Hech- 
ingen perched on its breezy height, and Hohen- 
zollern on its sister hill, and carry us into far 
different scenes and surroundings in the wild, 
secluded valley of the infant Danube. 



61 



V 
BEURON 



63 



V 
BEURON 

A JOURNEY of but a few hours brought us 
into the little station of Beuron. The 
creamy white walls and red roofs of the great 
Benedictine abbey — the prominent object in the 
village — were not unfamiliar, for I had visited 
Beuron eight years before. Those years, how- 
ever, had left their record in added wings and 
extended farm buildings — signs of growth in the 
number of inmates and advance in material 
prosperity which it was pleasant to see. The 
monastery is the mother house of a nourishing 
Benedictine Congregation possessing abbeys in 
Belgium, England, Bohemia, and Styria, besides 
others in Germany, and having under its juris- 
diction a monastery in Jerusalem, another in 
Portugal and a missionary Congregation work- 
ing in German East Africa — a full record for the 
half century since it was founded. 

At first sight it would seem that Beuron had 
set aside the axiom which makes Bernard choose 
the valleys and Benedict the hills, for it is decidedly 

65 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

in a valley, hemmed round by the wooded heights 
which border the course of the Danube. The 
fact is it is only since it came into the possession 
of its present owners that Beuron has been Bene- 
dictine. True, there was a cell of the great 
monastery of St. Gall, which bore the name of 
Purron, standing on a hill not far away in the 
eighth century, but two hundred years later it 
was destroyed by an incursion from Hungary. 
In 1077 a nobleman built on the present site a 
monastery for Austin Canons, who came here 
from Kreuzlingen and dedicated it to St. Martin. 
The Canons in their turn were driven out under 
Napoleon's regime and for sixty years the mon- 
astery was deserted. When the second Arch- 
abbot Wolter and his brother, the Founder of 
the Congregation, both deceased, were desirous 
of restoring Benedictine life in Prussia, the 
buildings at Beuron were procured for them 
by the Princess Catherine of Hohenzollern. 

Driven out by the May Laws, the monks took 
refuge in England, Belgium, and Austria, where 
the abbeys then founded still flourish in great 
vigor. But the time of persecution passed away ; 
the monks returned and peopled Beuron again — 
only the stronger for the brief period of repres- 
sion and exile. 

Beuron is not a beautiful monastery to look 
at. The Canons in raising the later buildings 

66 



BEURON 

on the old site looked more to utility than pic- 
turesqueness of form. Externally, therefore, the 
abbey is a large group of three-storied buildings, 
branching out in many directions and with scarcely 
any decorative features to commend them. Even 
the church was exteriorly a very plain building 
with " onion-topped " tower and large circular- 
headed windows, though it has since been adorned 
by the monastic artists. The tower bears on one 
of its faces a colossal fresco of St. Joseph with 
Our Lord in his arms— a beautiful devotional 
painting, an ex voto, as an inscription testifies, 
upon the happy return of the community from 
exile. The facade of the church has also under- 
gone much decoration. It now bears some very 
fine paintings of various Benedictine saints in its 
pillared portico and on the west gable end, and 
these have added greatly to its appearance. 
This portion in form and general features bears 
some resemblance to the ancient type of Roman 
churches seen in such buildings as S. Maria in 
Trastevere and others. 

The interior has been rendered quite beautiful 
in spite of the difficulties presented by the ugly 
renaissance style of its architecture. For the 
advent of more than one distinguished artist 
to Beuron in the comparatively early days of 
the foundation made possible the formation of 
a school of art there which has produced many 

67 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

striking works of great beauty. Some of the 
best of these are to be seen in the decoration 
of the high altar and in the various altar-pieces 
round the church. The figures represented show 
great beauty of form and are painted in a style 
suggestive of the school of Fra Angelico. Even 
those who have criticized the Beuron artists 
most vigorously for their severe restraint of style 
are bound to confess that their pictures are 
redolent of the spirit of Faith and fervor, and 
often produce an impression on the beholder 
which is wanting in many works of far higher 
merit. 

It is impossible for even a casual observer 
not to be struck with the grace and dignity 
which breathe from some of the paintings in the 
abbey church at Beuron. The Coronation of 
Our Lady over the high altar is one of the most 
striking. No colors are used except the neces- 
sary flesh tints and a little gray shading in the 
draperies (which are all white) and the purple tint 
of the clouds which float over the pale gold back- 
ground. Only two figures appear : Our Lord on one 
side leans towards His Mother seated opposite as 
He holds over her bent head an imperial crown. 
The whole composition breathes an unusual air 
of spiritual beauty. The Crucifixion group, too, 
over one of the side altars, is very striking. 
Here also is a restraint of color which produces 

68 



BEURON 

a sense of mourning and desolation. The clouded 
sky, the dull purple and gray robes of Our Lady, 
the intense sadness of figure and feature in both 
Mary and John are very impressive. In every 
picture one sees a special charm; a spiritualized 
beauty of face, perfectly formed majestic figures, 
and a wonderful harmony of colors all tend to 
produce a truly striking effect. One feels at- 
tracted — almost riveted — by a beauty which is 
more than earthly. 

Not only in their paintings but in their mural 
decorations also have these artists succeeded in 
transforming a very ordinary building into one 
of unusual charm. Some of the original frescoes 
of the stuccoed roof have been allowed to remain, 
for they portray the history of the Augustinian 
foundation. When examined they are found to 
be crude in design and gaudy in tint, yet so 
skilfully has the color-scheme of the walls been 
worked out that they are comparatively unob- 
trusive. 

This church is, in a small way, a place of pilgrim- 
age. All through the summer months crowds of 
peasants from all the country round flock there 
on Sundays and Feast-days to pay their devo- 
tions to Our Lady of Beuron, for the quaint 
statue — probably dating from the fourteenth cen- 
tury — of Our Lady of Dolors with the Dead 
Christ in her lap, which stands over the marble 

69 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

Lady Altar in the nave, has the reputation of 
being miraculous. Since 1660 it has stood there, 
the center of much devotion. For two hundred 
years indeed before that date its fame had spread 
far and wide, but when a Swedish army ravaged 
the country, the precious statue had to be carried 
off for safety to Irendorf, a village on the neigh- 
boring heights, where it remained till brought 
back by the Canons in more peaceful days. 

It is a striking spectacle to see the hundreds 
of devout pilgrims in the varied national cos- 
tumes, crowding the church for the various hours 
of the Divine Office on some special festival and 
approaching the Sacraments with the greatest 
devotion. From four o'clock in the morning, 
when the monks sing Matins, till Benediction of 
the Blessed Sacrament after Vespers, the church 
is thronged on such days. The confessionals are 
often besieged from five a.m. till noon, and Holy 
Communion is continually being given. On an 
ordinary Sunday in summer the number of those 
who approach the sacraments will amount to 
eight hundred, and on greater Feasts there have 
been as many as a thousand. It has been found 
necessary during the last few years to provide 
several new confessionals in addition to those 
already in use to facilitate the administration of 
the Sacraments to the ever-increasing number of 
pilgrims. 

70 



BEURON 

Although the abbey, as I have said, is a some- 
what plain building, it has been ornamented 
interiorly by the same skilful hands which have 
adorned the church. The cloisters bear many 
strikingly beautiful mural paintings and the great 
refectory — built some twenty years ago — is most 
artistic both in design and decoration. 

The community of the monastery is larger 
than in any other House of the Congregation, 
numbering about a hundred and fifty members. 
For Beuron stands in the center of an intensely 
Catholic district and vocations are plentiful. 
Yet, in spite of their numbers, all are well occu- 
pied. The regular and orderly celebration of the 
Offices of the Church, which are carried out with 
much splendor of ceremonial on Feast-days, and 
are daily celebrated with more or less solemnity, 
occupy much of the day. Then the confessional 
duties are very heavy, especially during the 
summer. Artistic and literary work fill up the 
remainder of the time of some, the care of souls 
occupies others — for the abbey church is that 
of the parish. The many Lay Brothers are em- 
ployed on the extensive farm as well as in the 
baking, brewing, tailoring required for so large 
a family, not to mention the care of the large 
gardens and the exercise of various crafts. The 
whole institution, as well as the church, is lighted 
by electricity. 

Tl 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

The scenery amid which the abbey stands is 
of a most imposing description. On either side of 
the valley rise giant heights, for the most part 
clothed with forests. At intervals, from out the 
thick verdure, a giant pillar-like cliff rears its 
huge bulk. Many of these rocks have been 
named by the monks in honor of St. Peter, St. 
Benedict, etc., and on one of the highest they 
have planted a cross which is visible for many 
miles. Down the narrow valley the Danube — 
merely a mill-stream here — winds in many a 
curve through the meadow and pasture lands 
which lie on either side. 

A climb to Ihrendorf, perched up on rocky 
heights, is good exercise for the walker. The two 
churches there have been beautifully decorated 
by Beuron artists. One can descend again by 
a steep path down the face of the wooded cliff 
to the bank of the river near the grange belonging 
to the abbey, where some of the Lay Brothers, 
under charge of one of the Fathers, are employed 
in working the farm. 

Near the grange is the beautiful little chapel of 
St. Maurus, frescoed within and without with 
lovely forms and harmonious colors. It was 
built by the Princess Catherine of Hohenzollern, 
foundress of Beuron, as an ex Voio. She attributed 
her recovery from what was feared to be a fatal 
malady to the intercession of St. Maurus, which 

72 




In the Danube Valley, near Beuron. 




The Abbey Library, Beuron. 



BEURON 

had been invoked in her regard by means of the 
blessing, peculiar to the Benedictine Order, known 
by his name. The chapel is in its present position 
on account of the proximity of the cottage resi- 
dence known as The Grange, which was formerly 
a favorite summer resort of the Princess. 

Of interesting walks there is no lack in the 
neighborhood of Beuron. On one side of the 
valley is Schloss Wildenstein, a beautiful old 
house embowered in woods at the top of a veritable 
mountain height. To reach it one has to climb 
a winding road amid splendid birch trees, shoot- 
ing up to an incredible height from the low ground. 

On the opposite bank is Werenwag, another 
quaint old building, once a castle, now an inn. 
Round it are grouped the houses of a tiny village. 
From a window one looks down through a pre- 
cipitous gulley in the great rocks almost to the 
level of the river — a sight to make one giddy ! 

I have pleasing recollections of the pious 
reverence of the good peasants here for the 
person of a priest or religious. One never went 
through the streets of the village but the children 
came up to offer the customary salute while 
gravely taking the priest's hand. In the country 
parts they would sometimes run up to present 
a little bunch of flowers from their cottage garden, 
gathered and arranged as one approached the 
place. 

73 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

I noticed no very distinctive costume among 
the Beuron people. Perhaps the railway, which 
linked them with their capital — Sigmaringen — 
not long after the return of the monks from 
exile, may have destroyed some primitive tra- 
ditions. Among the pilgrims, however, were many 
strikingly characteristic modes of dress. The 
Black Forest women, for instance, * cherished 
a peculiar head-dress surmounting their long 
hanging plaits of hair; it consists of a triangular 
cap, covered with gold embroidery, from the 
back of which depended two broad black ribbons 
to the very heels of the wearer. Others had 
handkerchiefs of various colors over their heads, 
while large lace-trimmed aprons of the brightest 
hue — scarlet, blue or green — enlivened their black 
dresses. 

The few pleasant days we spent at Beuron 
were brought to an end by an engagement into 
which I had previously entered to attend in 
the post of chaplain a German prelate who was 
about to pay a visit to his birthplace — a small 
village in Wurttemberg — under circumstances of 
unusual interest, calculated to afford an insight 
into some special phases of German Catholic 
life. 



74 



VI 
IN A WURTTEMBERG VILLAGE 



75 



VI 

IN A WURTTEMBERG VILLAGE 

THE soft sunshine of an October afternoon 
shone upon the cluster of monastic build- 
ings down in the valley as our carriage mounted 
slowly up the wooded hill which lay between 
Beuron and our destination some fifteen miles 
away. 

A lucky chance had made me the companion 
for the time being of a high ecclesiastical dig- 
nitary. It had been arranged that all the in- 
habitants of his native village who had that 
year attained to the age of fifty — and among 
them he was reckoned — should join together in 
a special celebration of the event. It had given 
great joy to his fellow-jubilarians that a prelate 
should deign to take part in their festivities; for 
in the country parts of Catholic Germany any 
priest is regarded with the greatest reverence, 
and an ecclesiastic of higher rank meets with a 
demonstration of respect such as we in our Prot- 
estant lands seldom offer. This was to be brought 
home to me in a striking way. 

77 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

Our road lay through most picturesque scenes. 
Up and down hill we drove, now skirting the 
deep bank of some little river, now passing 
through a thick pine forest; at times over- 
shadowed by great wooded heights, and then 
again mounting to cross some hilly ridge to 
gain another valley. 

By the wayside were frequent wooden crosses 
or tiny shrines containing a statue of Our Lady or 
of some local saint; everywhere one realized that 
the Catholic Faith was predominant — nay, rather 
in sole possession — among these hills and vales. 

About six miles from our destination occurred 
the first event in our solemn reception. By the 
churchyard wall of the village we found a little 
crowd assembled. The parish priest was to the 
fore and spoke a few words of welcome. Then a 
deputation appeared to escort us on our way. 
No less than six carriages, each drawn by a pair 
of horses and containing the notables of the 
village to which we were journeying, were waiting 
in gala dress to do us honor. 

We departed accordingly in processional order, 
with our carriage in the wake of that containing 
the chief dignitaries, while the others followed. 
As we neared the village the church bells rang 
out in welcome and there was a salute of cannon 
— or of their equivalent. As we passed down 
the village street the people crowded to doors 

78 






IN A WURTTEMBERG VILLAGE 

and casements to wave a welcome. Windows on 
every side were gay with flags, and wreaths of 
evergreens and flowers decorated the front of 
every cottage. Near the church we all alighted; 
for a priest in surplice and stole, accompanied 
by a small crowd of little altar-boys in all the 
glory of scarlet cassocks and lace-trimmed cottas, 
was awaiting us. A procession was formed to the 
church porch, cross and banners preceding us, 
and, before entering the building, incense and 
holy water were offered according to the usual 
rite of receiving a prelate. After the customary 
prayers in the sanctuary, the people having 
crowded into the body of the church the priest 
spoke a few words of welcome and asked his 
Lordship to impart his blessing to all. This 
being done, we made our way to the house of the 
parish priest, not far from the church, where we 
were to be lodged. Thither we proceeded in 
solemn state as before, cross and candles and 
banners borne in front, cannons booming, bells 
pealing, and the horses of the deputation, unused 
to the unwonted clamor, almost endangering our 
lives by their lively plunging and starting. The 
priest who had received us was not the pastor 
of the village; the latter had not returned from 
a recent visit to Rome, and it was his absence 
that had rendered my presence necessary. For 
I was to sing the Missa Cantata on the following 

79 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

day when his Lordship was to preach. The 
parish priest's representative, however, presided 
with the utmost cordiality at our reception 
and arranged for our hospitable entertainment 
at the clergy-house. 

It was while we were at supper on that same 
evening that the next event on the programme 
occurred. At about 7.30 the strains of a part- 
song, very well rendered, rose from the garden 
below. We went to the window and found the 
balcony outside, as well as the front of the pres- 
bytery, illuminated with Chinese lanterns and 
hung with flags and garlands. A goodly crowd 
had assembled below and in their midst were 
the members of the church choir discoursing 
sweet music as a kind of serenade to the dis- 
tinguished guest. 

After the song a speech of welcome was 
delivered by the conductor of the music. Its 
eloquence was marred, I regret to say, by sundry 
private displays of fireworks by juvenile mem- 
bers of the deputation on the edge of the crowd, 
who evidently intended to show their interest 
in the proceedings, even though they had not 
been asked either to sing or to speak. 

After three hochs (or cheers, as we should 
say) for their visitor, and more singing, diversi- 
fied by sudden intermittent blazes of rockets, 
squibs, and the like, the assembly dispersed. 

80 



IN A WURTTEMBERG VILLAGE 

The following day, Rosary Sunday, was charm- 
ingly fine and bright, and from an early hour 
visitors from neighboring parishes poured into 
the village to join in the popular rejoicing. The 
chief Mass was at nine o'clock. A few minutes 
before, according to the instructions of the ven- 
erable sacristan, who was somewhat nervous and 
flurried from the weight of his unusual responsi- 
bilities, I vested in alb and stole and set off with 
the aforesaid escort of acolytes vested in scarlet 
and lace and bearing cross, candles, and banners 
to conduct " Herr Prelat " from the presbytery 
to the church. The usual bell-ringing and can- 
non-firing which accompanied the movements of 
the distinguished guest broke out anew to herald 
our approach. 

In the church porch holy water and incense 
were offered as yesterday. The service com- 
menced with the Asperges, then came the ser- 
mon, and the Mass followed. According to cus- 
tom on great Feasts, the Blessed Sacrament was 
exposed during Mass and Benediction given both 
before and after. The latter rite — very different 
from our own — was strange to a foreigner. The 
priest, enveloped in the humeral veil, stood 
facing the people with the monstrance in his hand 
and intoned the first words of the hymn Pange 
Lingua. This the choir and people took up 
and at the conclusion of the strophe the Bene- 

81 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

diction was given amid the ringing of bells within 
and without the sacred building. At the end 
of Mass the ceremony was repeated, except that 
the Tantum Ergo was substituted for the former 
verse of the hymn. 

The singing astonished me. The music was 
of the Ratisbon school in four parts — a style 
suggestive of Palestrina — and was very well ren- 
dered. The really good organ was well played, 
too. Moreover, the whole Mass was sung through- 
out — a feature very unusual even yet in too many 
churches in our own land, where the choir is 
often content with performing a showy Kyrie, 
Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei, without giving 
a thought to the proprium of the Mass. Yet, in 
this obscure German village, a chorister with a 
pleasing baritone voice rendered accurately and 
tastefully the Introit, Alleluia, and other portions 
from the plain chant Graduale. 

The day happened to be the anniversary of the 
birthday of the Queen of Wurttemberg; conse- 
quently the Mass was followed by a Te Deum, 
during which the cannons without thundered 
away lustily and the bells clanged out from the 
steeple. 

It was amusing to discover afterwards that a 
spruce, military-looking individual in the sanctu- 
ary stalls, whom I had taken for an officer in 
the army at least, was merely a sort of head- 

82 



IN A WURTTEMBERG VILLAGE 

gamekeeper and a Protestant withal, who had 
come to be present at the thanksgiving service 
— for there was no Protestant place of worship 
in the district — as a loyal servant of the State ! 

When the jubilarian festivities had been becom- 
ingly ushered in by religious rites it was but 
fitting that a more secular celebration should 
follow. Accordingly at mid-day we betook our- 
selves to the chief inn — the " Golden Crown," 
or the " Eagle," whichever it may have been — 
for the festal banquet. The best room had 
been gaily adorned with festoons of ivy and many- 
colored paper roses. A goodly party had assembled 
to receive us; for beside the jubilarians proper, 
some of the dignitaries and officials of the village 
took part. To me was assigned a place of honor 
next to the guest of the day in my position of 
" Herr Sekretar." 

It was interesting to note the simplicity and 
kindliness which characterized the proceedings. 
The landlord and landlady waited upon the 
party (Herr and Frau " Adler," as they were 
ceremoniously dubbed — it would sound strange 
to a British landlord to be called " Mr„ Eagle " 
or " Mr. Golden Crown," but here it is the 
usage), assisted by some servants. Very friendly 
it sounded to hear the waiter say as he depos- 
ited one's soup before one: Guten appetit! (" A 
good appetite to you! ") One could hardly fail 

83 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

to fulfil the wish, so appetizing was the fare. 
The menu may perhaps interest the reader. 
First, after the soup, came boiled beef, with 
accompaniments of beetroot, sliced cucumbers, 
pickled beans, or cherry jam, ad libitum. Then 
followed boiled bacon and sauerkraut with potatoes 
(sauerkraut, be it said, is an acquired taste). 
Afterwards came roast beef and salad and stewed 
cabbage in sauce. Very good red or white wine 
was the beverage. It was a thoroughly German 
repast; but well cooked and well served could 
be appreciated by any one who was not a 
gourmand. 

It was a relief to find that only one speech 
had been arranged, and that a short one; and it 
was a lucky chance, for Vespers followed so soon 
that we had almost to go from table to church. 
Again the singing was good and the sermon 
tolerably long. Exposition of the Blessed Sacra- 
ment and Benediction followed the same rites 
as in the morning. 

I felt myself almost rivaling in interest the 
hero of the day, in that I was an Englishman, 
and Englishmen (particularly priests) were appar- 
ently rare in those parts. So people — especially 
the little altar-boys — looked at me curiously, 
and spoke in a rather louder tone of voice to me 
than to others (as though that would render their 
language more intelligible), and seemed surprised 

84 



IN A WURTTEMBERG VILLAGE 

if I failed to grasp a situation pointed out to me 
in somewhat provincial dialect. 

Still all were kind and sociable. The little 
boys especially won my heart. The fact seemed 
to dawn upon one as something novel that boy- 
nature was the same in Southern Germany as 
in England or Scotland. They were a merry lot, 
and, though always perfectly respectful and rev- 
erent, yet possessed withal a tinge of playful 
humor that was very charming. 

His Lordship, who spoke my native tongue 
with ease, amused himself with teaching them 
an English salutation wherewith to greet me; 
consequently I found myself confronted after ser- 
vice by a group of laughing, flaxen-haired scoun- 
drels, who shouted in chorus — and with very 
creditable accent, too — " How do you do, Rev- 
erend Father? " and then exploded in delighted 
laughter. 

The Sunday celebrations were but the prelude 
to the real object of our visit. This was a pil- 
grimage on the following day to the favorite 
sanctuary of the " Heuberg " — as the whole 
district is called — known as " Driefaltigkeitsberg" 
or "Holy Trinity Hill," about five miles off. 
Here there was to be another Missa Cantata, 
at which I was again to officiate, and another 
sermon to bring the celebrations to a close. 

It was thought too much to expect of me — an 

85 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

Englishman, forsooth — that I should tramp those 
six miles up a steep hill, fasting and reciting 
rosaries and litanies the while, and then sing 
Mass. So I was packed off on the Sunday- 
evening in charge of the good old sacristan, to 
sleep in the little inn that forms the only habita- 
tion on the "holy mountain." 

My Right Reverend friend, meanwhile, re- 
mained behind to join the pilgrimage. The good 
people, as he told me after, would give him no 
respite from the watchful attention which they 
were always ready to afford. Even when he would 
steal out towards evening to visit the little ceme- 
tery and pray beside the graves of those dear 
to him, who had all been taken from this earthly 
scene, an impromptu procession, gathering fresh 
followers on the way, respectfully dogged his 
footsteps, till in self-defense he was compelled 
to dismiss them as courteously as he was able. 

Such are the inconveniences which attend on 
celebrity ! 




86 



VII 

DREIFALTIGKEITSBERG— INTO 
SWITZERLAND 



87 



VII 

DREIFALTIGKEITSBERG— INTO 
SWITZERLAND 

THE walk over the hills to the place of pil- 
grimage on that bright Sunday evening was 
one to be remembered. After climbing a steep 
ridge that dominated the hospitable village whose 
guest I had been on that memorable day, we 
passed through woods and over meadows and 
by many a wayside shrine, ever rising higher 
and higher, till we reached the summit of the 
" holy mountain." Spread out on the plain be- 
low, almost at one's feet — for the hill on that 
side rises very abruptly to the height of some 
3,000 feet above the sea-level — lay the roofs and 
spires of the larger town of Spaichingen and the 
humbler buildings of many a little village and 
hamlet, and one gazed down upon them as upon 
some huge, delicately- tinted map as the setting 
sun lighted up the various colors in the scene. 

It was delightful to find oneself in such a 
thoroughly Catholic atmosphere as the simple 
little inn afforded where I spent the night. Pious 

89 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

pictures and crucifixes, not only in the room 
allotted to me, but even in the more public 
apartments below, gave evidence of the practical 
nature of the faith of the inmates and frequenters 
of the house. The attention and respect shown 
to me were a further proof of the same. 

The devotion with which the little church of 
Dreifaltigkeitsberg is regarded by all the inhab- 
itants of the surrounding district is the growth 
of centuries. The place is said to have been 
famous for pilgrimages since the fourteenth cen- 
tury, and about 1415 the first church was con- 
secrated there. 

The origin of the pilgrimage is lost in antiquity. 
Tradition relates that a shepherd, in search of 
lost sheep, came upon an old moss-grown rep- 
resentation of the Blessed Trinity in the wood 
which covered the hill upon which formerly rose 
an old feudal castle, and from that time the 
place began to be held sacred. 

In the fifteenth century a Confraternity of 
the Blessed Trinity, having the church as its 
headquarters, was initiated, and although it has 
passed through many vicissitudes, through the 
zeal of successive pastors of Spaichingen it is 
now flourishing in fresh vigor. Before the end 
of the year 1897, when it was reconstituted, it 
numbered no less than fourteen hundred mem- 
bers. 

90 



DREIFALTIGKEITSBERG 

In 1666 a larger church was begun, as the old 
one was inadequate for the numerous gatherings 
of pilgrims, and in 1673 it received solemn con- 
secration. For a hundred years daily Mass was 
said there except on Sundays, on which day in 
all Catholic countries the faithful are bound to 
repair to their respective parish churches. Under 
Joseph II and his disciples the old pilgrimages 
were condemned and many attempts made to 
suppress them, but the zeal and constancy of the 
people presented an insuperable obstacle and they 
have never wholly ceased, in spite of the efforts 
made to prevent them. 

The church itself is very interesting. Its 
ground-plan is in the form of a cross, and altars 
stand in three of the arms. The high altar, 
much decorated with imitation marbles, bears a 
representation of the Blessed Trinity. The altars 
of the transept are dedicated to Our Lady and 
St. Ursula respectively, and have each an altar- 
piece, painted in 1765. Under the dome, which 
rises over the junction of the transepts, a fine 
large statue of Our Lady ordinarily stands, sur- 
rounded by a balustrade. To this statue much 
devotion is shown by pilgrims. The dome itself 
is decorated with a representation of the Blessed 
Trinity crowning Our Lady, and lower down are 
very fine frescoed figures of saints specially de- 
voted to the Mystery which gives the church its 

91 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

title; amongst them are St. Athanasius, St. Basil, 
St. Hilary, and others. The whole of the interior 
has been similarly painted of late years and the 
windows filled with stained glass. The building 
is some 120 feet in length and 30 feet wide. Ex- 
ternally its architecture is simple, but the interior 
is very striking. 

From eight o'clock on that Monday morning 
people began to arrive to take part in the func- 
tions of the day, for the event had attracted the 
inhabitants of all the villages round. They 
moved about the hilltop, chatting with acquaint- 
ances and awaiting the arrival of the pilgrim- 
age of the " jubilarians." The clergy from Spaich- 
ingen were busy in the church and sacristy pre- 
paring for the celebrations, under the direction 
of the Dean, who himself enjoyed prelatial dignity; 
they had come up from the town that morning 
for the occasion. 

It was 9:30 before any sign appeared of the 
long-awaited pilgrimage. After a Low Mass at 
five o'clock the large company, consisting of half 
the inhabitants of the village, had left about 
seven. The day was warm and the air calm and 
still. When I looked upon the jaded, heated 
figures of those who comprised the party, I 
realized still more fully the wisdom which had 
suggested my over-night's journey. All those six 
miles uphill had been tramped in processional 

92 



DREIFALTIGKEITSBERG 

order, led by acolytes with cross and banners to 
the accompaniment of an almost incessant reci- 
tation of rosaries and litanies by the entire body. 
Theirs was a decidedly penitential journey, and 
we may well suppose a very meritorious act. 

Monsignor the Dean, surrounded by his clergy, 
and with attendant ministers, received the pil- 
grimage with a friendly address of welcome, and 
after the usual honors to the Prelate who led it 
all the waiting multitude crowded into the little 
church — as far as its capacity would allow — to 
take part in the service. 

The sermon came first and then the Missa 
Cantata followed, the music being supplied by 
the choir who had accompanied the pilgrims. 
The organ proved to be a good one, and was well 
played. When the service was over and the 
multitude of supplicants for the blessing of medals 
and enrolment in various scapulars and confra- 
ternities had been satisfied, every one began to 
think of bodily refreshment. 

How crowded the little inn became! Upstairs 
and downstairs, kitchen and bar-room, the en- 
trance passages, the very steps of the staircase — 
every possible place was occupied. Those who 
could not find admittance contented themselves 
with the cooler atmosphere outside, where, seated 
on the grass, they consumed their provisions and 
waited patiently till their turn came to be served 

93 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

with the all-important beer. Those who were 
fortunate enough to find at least standing room 
within consumed their bread and cheese and 
sausage there, and drank successive tankards of 
the universal German beverage — far more re- 
freshing and far less harmful in its effects than any- 
thing of the kind to be met with in our own land. 

By degrees the hundreds of visitors began to 
disperse in different directions, and after taking 
leave of my little acolyte friends and of the many 
acquaintances I had made on the previous day, 
I too descended by the winding road towards the 
town, in company with the clergy. Stations of 
the Cross, and groups of sacred statuary in small 
chapels by the wayside, marked it as the route 
of a pilgrimage. Many of these have been erected 
within the last few years by the generosity of 
Catholics in America and elsewhere. 

I experienced the most generous hospitality 
in the clergy-house at Spaichingen, and spent 
there a very pleasant day. Close beside it stood 
a handsome new parish church not long com- 
pleted. Since that time it has received conse- 
cration at the hands of the Bishop, and bears 
the names of the holy apostles SS. Peter and 
Paul. Built in simple Gothic style, wholly of 
stone, its lofty roof upheld on slender pillars, its 
floor covered with richly-tinted tiles, it presented 
the picture of a really handsome church. From 

94 



DREIFALTIGKEITSBERG 

its lofty tower, ascended by inclined planes 
instead of steps, and sheltering several fine bells, 
one gained a comprehensive view of the pictur- 
esque country lying round it. The five stone 
altars within the church were adorned with beauti- 
ful statues of carved wood, artistically decorated 
and gilded. A splendid organ occupied a place in 
the lofty gallery over the western entrance, and 
upon it the organist discoursed sweet music for 
the benefit of the visitors. 

A pretty little Gothic church at Hofen, a 
suburb of the town, served for a parish church 
during the erection of the new building; a wooden 
addition had been made to afford the necessary 
accommodation. This church also showed evi- 
dence of refined artistic taste in its fittings and 
adornments. It was there I said Mass. 

Noon on the following day saw me once more, 
in company with my former fellow-traveler, on 
the way to our next resting-place, the famous 
Swiss Abbey of Einsiedeln. The journey lay 
through some of the most striking scenery we 
had yet witnessed. Near Singen are the beautiful 
remains of the ancient castle of Hohentwiel. 
They stand on a grand round-topped mountain 
over two thousand feet high, and form with their 
surroundings a most picturesque scene. The 
castle is one of the oldest in Upper Suabia. It 
anciently belonged to Bavaria, but was siezed by 

95 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

a Count of Wurtt ember g in the fourteenth cen- 
tury, and has since remained in the possession 
of that State. It was ruined by the French in 
1800. It was contemplated at one time to 
restore it to serve as a frontier defense for the 
German Empire. 

Close to the station at Neuhausen are the re- 
nowned falls of the Rhine, known as the Falls 
of Schaffhausen. The water of the river — 
green as a chrysoprase stone — rushes over huge 
rocks in a mass of white foam, and the great 
river flows on again bright-tinted as before. 
The colors of the whole picture must be seen to 
be realized. 

Zurich lay shining in the sun by the waters 
of its lovely lake as we passed through the station, 
and the hills all around were dotted with dwell- 
ings. But it was at Wadensweil that the real 
beauty of the Zuricher See broke upon us. On 
the sides of the wooded hills nestled white houses, 
rising one above another in irregular terraces 
embowered in trees. Their red roofs were of the 
most varied tones: sometimes almost brown with 
age, sometimes a bright vermilion for very new- 
ness. In the background towered giant peaks, 
shining ghost-like through a misty haze that 
partially veiled them; gleaming snow-patches 
whitened their highest points. Over all shone 
a brilliant blue and cloudless sky. 

96 



DREIFALTIGKEITSBERG 

We were in Switzerland now, and many- 
tokens were visible of a change of country. Here 
once more were vines laden with fruit. It was 
vintage time, and the vineyards were gay with 
bright figures gathering the grapes, while in some 
were wine-presses at work. But we had seen 
vines and grapes in plenty and tasted the fruit 
too many times in Rhineland. We had not seen 
cottages like these, though, in Germany. They 
are distinctly Swiss. The roofs overhang like 
that of the Noah's Ark we all recollect from 
childhood. Each front is full of windows fitted 
with bright green shutters, and between the 
windows is a decoration of thin wooden plates 
forming a kind of fish-scale pattern. All round 
the first floor runs a wooden balcony, upon which 
the week's washing is often displayed. But the 
gardens, and the flowers therein! Who could 
describe them? Never, surely, were such dahlias 
to be seen out of this country. Dahlias rich red, 
crimson, purple, pink, yellow, orange, pure white, 
and growing to the height of veritable shrubs, 
too! Some I saw must have reached at least 
five feet. Then, again, the luxuriance of the 
Virginia creepers clinging to houses and balconies 
and trellises ! They shone in all shades of yellow, 
green, red, and brown. The very apples in the 
orchards seemed more richly tinted than else- 
where, and loaded the branches so heavily in 

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RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

some instances that they needed props to sup- 
port their weight. 

It must have been at Wadensweil that we be- 
came aware of the presence in our train of many 
schoolboys of varying ages, evidently returning 
to school for the term. It was impossible not 
to contrast them with their own class in our 
native land, where the mere assembling of so 
many schoolfellows, coupled with the fact that 
these were their last free hours from scholastic 
discipline, would have loosened tongues and 
brightened spirits in a marvelous way. But 
Swiss and German boys are evidently of a more 
philosophical turn and accept school as a nec- 
essary even if disagreeable factor in life's routine, 
with perfect equanimity. The gravity of their 
demeanor and the sedate greeting they gave to 
each newcomer were sufficient proof of this. 
It dawned upon us eventually that these youths 
were bound for the great abbey which we were 
then fast approaching; for we knew that its 
monks conducted a school of over two hundred 
boys. Our conjectures proved correct; for, to- 
gether with us, our youthful fellow-travelers 
alighted when the train drew up in the little, 
unassuming station of Einsiedeln. 






98 



VIII 
EINSIEDELN 



99 



VIII 
EINSIEDELN 

NO photograph that I have seen gives an 
adequate idea of the real grandeur of the 
groups of buildings which constitute the Abbey 
of Einsiedeln. They stand on a somewhat higher 
level than the little town which has sprung up 
at their feet, and are visible at a good distance; 
yet it is only when one has driven across the 
wide, paved space in front, and gradually ascends 
by one of the sloping roads that curve round the 
central flight of steps, that one realizes their 
imposing splendor. 

In the center of the principal wing stands the 
church, its western facade curving outwards in 
apsidal form between the lofty twin towers which 
support it on either side. To the right of the 
church stretch the buildings of the monastery; 
on the left those of the great college. 

The marked symmetry both of style and 
construction that characterizes the vast pile is 
such as one seldom looks for in an institution 
which has existed for nearly a thousand years 

101 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

It is due to the fact that the present buildings 
were all erected in the latter part of the eighteenth 
century. Successive fires and other catastrophes 
have destroyed all traces of former monasteries 
and churches; the present abbey is the sixth that 
has been built upon the site. 

Einsiedeln is at the present time, and has 
been for centuries, one of the most famous places 
of pilgrimage in Europe. It is from this fact 
that the monastery has gained its prestige. 
Pilgrims have come thither from France, Ger- 
many, and Italy, as well as from all the Catholic 
parts of Switzerland, and even from distant Asia, 
Africa, and America. The average yearly num- 
ber of communions given in the church during 
the last three hundred years amounts to 150,000; 
in some years it has risen to over 200,000. It 
is not uncommon, during the summer months, 
when pilgrimages are most frequent, to have as 
many as three hundred Masses celebrated there 
in a single day. It is calculated that the church 
will contain ten thousand persons. 

The ancient wooden statue of the Madonna, 
the object of so much devotion, is believed to 
date from the time of St. Meinrad the Hermit- 
Martyr, upon the site of whose cell the first 
monastery arose. It is a fact that the place 
has been a renowned sanctuary since the tenth 
century. 

102 



EINSIEDELN 

I can never forget the impression made 
upon me by the reverent devotion witnessed 
there. It was the first evening after our arrival, 
and the bells rang out for the October Rosary. 
Near the cell in which I was lodged was a door 
communicating with a tribune, high up over 
the western entrance of the church. I entered 
and found myself, immediately opposite the Holy 
Chapel, as it is called, the sanctuary of the famous 
Madonna. It is a small building of black marble, 
with bas-reliefs in marble of a creamy-white 
tint. It is of very graceful classical architecture, 
and is adorned with many beautiful little statues 
of local saints on its facade and at various points. 

This chapel occupies the site of the first little 
church built over the oratory and cell of St. 
Meinrad, a church which tradition says was 
consecrated by Our Blessed Lord in person. 
It contains, over the marble altar, the statue of 
black wood which attracts so many pilgrims 
here. It stands detached from any other build- 
ings, in the very center of the portion of the 
church below the nave. On the particular even- 
ing in October to which I have referred there 
was no concourse of pilgrims, for pilgrimages 
cease for the winter months after Our Lady's 
Nativity. Yet quite a crowd of people stood 
or knelt round the shrine, bright from within 
from its ever-burning lamps. Every one who 

103 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

entered paid a visit there before proceeding 
farther up the great church, and many remained 
there all through the service. A priest in the 
pulpit far up in the nave was leading the Rosary, 
and from the numerous worshippers arose quite 
a shout of response to every Ave. Far be- 
yond, one could see through the iron screen 
which shut in the sanctuary clusters of starry 
lights and the gleam of white surplices; only 
these and the faint odor of incense revealed the 
fact that the Blessed Sacrament was exposed 
for Benediction. Soon the Rosary and Litany 
came to an end, and then rang out, after the 
Tantum Ergo, the shrill pealing of the altar bells 
which accompanied the solemn rite. Then the 
large concourse began to break up as the people 
streamed out. 

For curiosity I tried to count them; I could 
only estimate the number roughly, yet I made 
out more than three hundred, and they did not 
form a third of the body. This was exclusive 
of the two hundred students in the choir and 
of the many Fathers in the tribunes above. 
And this on an ordinary week night, and for 
October devotions merely. 

The numbers and their earnestness made a 
great impression upon me, which deepened upon 
further experience. One never visited the church 
without finding some few worshippers at the 

104 




ElNSIEDELN. 




The Monastery, Einsiedeln, as seen from the rear. 



EINSIEDELN 

shrine, and during the hours when Masses were 
said there was always a crowd in front of the 
Holy Chapel. 

The sense of the holiness of the spot, which 
made itself felt irresistibly, words cannot express. 
It was like a retreat to be there and merely look 
on at the almost visible action of grace which was 
going on there. One felt impelled to thank God 
again and again for His mercies here poured 
out in such abundance. The fervent prayers of 
thousands have ascended from this sacred spot; 
thousands of sin-laden souls have left their bur- 
den here and started once more on their way 
towards Heaven, free and unfettered. Einsiedeln 
is a splendid object-lesson in the influence exer- 
cised by Our Lady towards man's salvation. 
Crowds are drawn there out of love for her, and 
she leads them nearer to her Son, through a good 
confession and communion. I wished many times 
that Protestants could only realize this. 

It was a great privilege to be allowed to say 
Mass many times in the Holy Chapel itself during 
the course of this visit. How impressive it was! 
When the attentive Guest Father led me down 
by devious ways to the church on the first morn- 
ing and admitted me to the chapel, there were 
many worshippers crowding round the gates and 
a few — who were to receive holy communion — 
within. A priest was just finishing and I could 

105 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

not help admiring the dexterity, born of long 
practice, with which the Brother in charge answered 
him while he prepared vestments and chalice for 
me, so that not a minute of the precious time 
might be wasted. The bell was then rung, as 
it always is, to give notice that another Mass 
was beginning in the chapel. It was with feelings 
of spontaneous awe that I offered the Holy Sac- 
rifice in that time-honored sanctuary and gave 
communion to some seven or eight of the faith- 
ful. The Mass is always, except on the greatest 
Feasts, that of Our Lady. Over the altar stands 
the ancient statue, surrounded with ex votos and 
robed in vestments of gold-embroidered silk or 
of velvet, which are changed with the varying 
degrees of the Feasts. All round are rich decora- 
tions of gold and silver; the whole of the interior 
of the chapel is faced with gray and brown 
marble; the chalice is of pure gold; everything 
bespeaks the liberality with which her clients 
have bedecked the shrine of the Virgin Mother. 

The Holy Chapel, standing as it does near 
the western entrance, is the prominent object 
in the great church, which has been built in 
honor of it. But there is much to admire in 
the church itself. Some of the altars are very 
rich in marbles. There are numerous finely 
executed frescoes and paintings and much val- 
uable statuary about the church. The style of 

106 



EINSIEDELN 

the building is renaissance, and to some tastes 
it might appear overladen with ornament; it 
cannot, however, be denied that the general 
effect is one of stately grandeur, however much 
the details may fail to please. 

One feature must be specially noted. In the 
center of the great nave hangs a gilt metal corona 
for lights. It is of Gothic design, very massive and 
beautiful, weighing 25 hundredweight. It was 
the gift in 1865 of Napoleon III to commemorate 
the pilgrimage here of his mother, Queen Hor- 
tense, and also his own first communion, which 
was made here. It bears upon it in enamel the 
following words, taken from a letter written by 
that Queen to the Abbot: " I desire to place 
myself and my children under the protection of 
the Blessed Virgin." The corona has been 
long illuminated by electricity, which is now the 
sole lighting power used in the establishment. 

The monastic choir is behind the high altar 
and raised upon a much higher level. It is 
partially hidden from the body of the church 
by the large altar-piece of the Assumption — 
the work of Deschwanden, who has contributed 
many other paintings to this magnificent church. 
The statues and other works of art in the sanc- 
tuary are of great value. 

A special chapel, opening from the north aisle, 
is devoted to confessionals. Here during the 

107 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

summer months several of the Fathers are en- 
gaged continually in administering the sacra- 
ment of Penance to crowds of pilgrims. Inscrip- 
tions upon the various confessionals denote the 
languages understood by the confessor. From 
these we learned that pilgrims were able to confess 
in English, French, Italian, and Romance, be- 
sides the native German of the district. 

It would be impossible to attempt to give an 
adequate description here of this magnificent 
church, and indeed so much has been already 
written about Einsiedeln that perhaps I have 
dwelt upon it too long already. Suffice it to say 
that the vast sacristies, with their treasures of 
plate and vestments, the number and value of 
the sacred relics, and all the various objects of 
art to be found there, are on a scale befitting a 
monastery which has existed for a thousand years, 
and has been during those long ages the recip- 
ient of the bounty of hundreds of thousands of 
devout pilgrims. 

The daily services carried out there are worthy 
of their surroundings. Every morning there are 
two sung Masses: the first at an early hour by 
the monks in Gregorian, the second by the 
students in more ornate modern music. The 
latter on great Feasts is accompanied by an 
orchestra as well as by the organ. Speaking of 
the organ, it may be noticed that there are, 

108 



EINSIEDELN 

besides a large organ in the monastic choir, at 
least four others in the church. Three of these 
are played, by means of electric connection, from 
one key -board. 

By the kind and thoughtful courtesy of the 
Prince Abbot, to whose generous hospitality we 
owe such pleasing recollections of an enjoyable 
visit, a Father was requested to play this powerful 
instrument for our benefit, while we inspected 
the various beauties of the church on one of the 
afternoons during our stay. From all the Fathers, 
indeed, we met with the most fraternal kindness. 

The monastery and collegiate buildings are on 
a very large scale. They stand round four quad- 
rangles. The library contains some thirty thou- 
sand volumes, among them being many priceless 
manuscripts. 

The saw-mills, carpentering works, all driven 
by electricity, the capacious stables, the large 
and well-kept farm stock — all afford objects of 
interest. 

It was not the least of our enjoyments during 
our visit to be permitted to join some of the 
more distinguished guests in several drives to 
objects of interest in the neighborhood. It was 
our good fortune to be staying in company with 
no less than three Benedictine Abbots who were 
on their way to Rome, and thus to share in some 
very pleasant excursions. One of these was to 

109 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

the Etzel, St. Meinrad's first dwelling-place until 
he was driven by the concourse of visitors to 
seek what was then a remote spot. It is a place 
of great natural beauty. The Lake of Zurich 
lies at the foot of the wooded hill, and on the 
other side rise gaunt, bare, jagged mountain 
crests, softened to a bluish gray by distance. 
A little chapel, with quaint frescoes, commem- 
orates the saint. 

On other occasions we visited some of the 
churches served from the abbey. Many of them 
have been beautifully decorated with frescoes 
designed by one of the artist monks, and all of 
them, by their extreme neatness, order, and 
cleanliness, testified to the traditional Benedic- 
tine care of the House of God. 

The only incident to be regretted about these 
charming excursions was the irrepressible polite- 
ness of the people we met. Within the limits of 
the little town one enjoyed the unenviable priv- 
ilege of royalty; one was forced to remain almost 
continually hat in hand, for every one saluted the 
Prince Abbot and his guests as a matter of course. 
But that was but a slight penalty to pay for 
those pleasant drives through truly lovely scenes; 
past pretty Swiss cottages standing in brilliant 
gardens; through green meadows sprinkled with 
flowers unlike any that were familiar at home, 
where fawn-colored cows placidly grazed to the 

110 



EINSIEDELN 

perpetual tinkle of the bells hanging from their 
necks; or through wild, wooded gorges that 
reminded us of our own Highland glens; while 
all the time the giant mountains, with their 
fields of untrodden snow, gleamed through the 
purple haze in the background of the picture. 



Ill 



IX 

PFAEFFIKON— UFNAU 



113 



IX 
PFAEFFIKON— UFNAU 

WHEN the time came to tear ourselves away 
from Einsiedeln and its peaceful activity 
and to betake ourselves to the Tyrol, we were 
able, by the kindness of the Prince Abbot, to 
visit on our way a very interesting spot closely 
connected with the famous abbey. This was 
Pfaeffikon, less than an hour's railway journey 
from Einsiedeln, where we were permitted to 
break our journey for a while. 

The village itself is but a small place; the 
only object of interest there was the ancient 
schloss or castle, which, since the Middle Ages, 
has belonged to Einsiedeln. In feudal times it 
was of more importance than it is now, for it 
formed the chief defense of the extensive property 
around it belonging to the abbey and was the 
rallying point of the Abbot's retainers in the 
event of hostile attack. 

It still retains a broad moat, which surrounds 
part of the buildings; and a massive tower, 
once strongly fortified, is the most conspicuous 
object of the pile. Much of the original castle 
has, however, been modernized; it serves as a 

115 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

dwelling-house for the two Fathers who live 
there to superintend the cultivation of the farm 
and take charge of the property. In the summer 
it is customary for the Fathers from Einsiedeln 
to make excursions here in small parties at a time. 
There is an ancient church in the precincts. 
It has been artistically decorated, like all the 
churches served by the abbey, and presents a 
charming interior. Two of its beautiful altar- 
pieces are the work of one of the Fathers, a pupil 
of Deschwanden ; they stand over the side altars. 
One of them represents the death of St. Meinrad. 
The saint lies dying of the wounds inflicted by 
his murderers, while angels light tapers at the 
head and feet of the martyr. It is a composition 
full of devout reverence and characterized by 
great beauty of form and feature. On the 
opposite side is the painting of St. Adelric giving 
holy communion to his mother, St. Regulinda; 
of these saints I shall speak later. This picture 
also is one of touching beauty. On the west 
wall of the little church is a large fresco of the 
Annunciation painted by the same hand. It is 
remarkable for containing the portraits of the late 
Abbot (in whose time the painting was executed), 
of one of the Fathers then resident at Pfaeffikon, 
and of the artist. The figures are introduced 
behind that of the angel, as saluting Our Lady in 
his company. 

116 



PFAEFFIKON— UFNAU 

The gardens round the schloss are distinctly 
attractive; for their fruit is renowned. The huge 
and luscious pears, the rosy apples, the giant 
bunches of sweet grapes served to us in the 
refectory there, are worthy to be remembered. 

But another and more sacred spot, in the 
vicinity of this pleasant old dwelling, claimed our 
attention. We were led through the garden down 
to the edge of the Lake of Zurich, which here 
forms the boundary of the monastic possessions. 
A large, strong rowboat was awaiting us at the 
little landing stage and a stalwart boatman was 
in attendance. We were invited to seat ourselves 
in the boat. One of the Fathers took the oars, 
and the boatman, standing on the raised plat- 
form which had been formed by boarding over 
the stern, helped in the propelling. The long oars 
he used were fixed firmly in leather rowlocks, 
and crossed one another at the height of his 
breast. With a neat, clean stroke, without the 
slightest splash, he pulled alternately with the 
Father; the one did the work of the arms of a 
swimmer, the other that of the legs. 

In this way we floated smoothly and swiftly 
across the calm water. Pfaeffikon, seen from 
thence, presented a charming picture. But for 
the huge bulk of a factory, built of red brick, 
and its tower of a chimney, Pfaeffikon, in its 
embowering trees, might have passed for a large 

117 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

and luxuriant garden full of summer-houses. 
For the cottages were quaintly Swiss. All of 
them had overhanging roofs, and in some a 
veranda-like roof ran over the windows of each 
story, giving the building an oddly toy-house look. 
But Pfaemkon almost disappeared from view 
as we neared the shore for which we were making 
— not the opposite shore of the lake, but that of a 
long island in its center. This, too, was pro- 
fusely wooded, and from its higher ground rose 
the steeple of a small church amid one or two 
buildings of lower stature. This was the island 
of Ufnau, at one period the great ecclesiastical 
center for the whole of the surrounding district. 
We landed, and after traversing meadows wherein 
gentle cows, recognizing the familiar monastic 
garb, walked up to be stroked and petted, we 
climbed a slight ascent to where an ancient 
church dominated the island. This church was 
erected in the tenth century and dedicated to 
Our Lady by St. Alaric or Adelric, son of Bur- 
chard II, Duke of Suabia. He had been brought 
up from childhood at the Abbey of Einsiedeln, 
and when his mother, Regulinda, who was afflicted 
with leprosy, retired to Ufnau to end her days 
in serving God in seclusion Adelric's desire was 
to live there, too, and minister to her spiritual 
wants. By her persuasion, however, he entered 
as a monk at Einsiedeln. 

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PFAEFFIKON— UFNAU 

Regulinda in her retirement caused a church 
to be commenced upon the island, but died before 
it was completed. Adelric, longing for greater 
solitude, obtained leave of his superiors to take 
up his abode on Ufnau. There he finished the 
church, which became eventually the beacon of 
Faith for the people dwelling on the shores of 
the lake, who flocked to St. Adelric to learn the 
Christian truths from his lips. When the waters 
were so high that it was impossible for any 
human being to bring him sustenance, tradition 
says that angels ministered to him in his solitude. 
Adelric died towards the end of the tenth cen- 
tury. He was laid to rest in his own little church, 
but his relics were translated in 1663 to Einsiedeln. 
The chasuble, of wide Gothic shape in blue and 
white silk— in which he often said Mass— is still 
preserved in the abbey sacristy. 

The church at Ufnau is quite small and without 
aisles. Immediately in front of the altar is a 
large tomb which once contained the saint's 
relics. Mass is only said in the church now on 
certain proper Feasts. 

The property here still belongs to Einsiedeln, 
as St. Adelric was a monk of the abbey. In 
the little church is, among other tombstones, 
one in memory of the administrator of the abbey 
possessions for the time being, who died and 
was buried there some two or more centuries 

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RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

ago. Its epitaph is very curious from the punning 
style of the Latin. He is called : 

Servus bonus et fidelis, 
Amore, more, ore, re. 

It will be noticed that in the second line 
each of the last three words is formed by the 
subtraction of the first letter of the preceding 
word. In English the epitaph may be thus 
rendered: 

A servant good and faithful 

In love, in life, in word, in deed. 

At a little distance from the church is a 
smaller building, ecclesiastical in style, but no 
longer used for sacred worship. It is the former 
dwelling of St. Regulinda, later on converted 
into a chapel. The relics of this holy recluse 
were carried to Einsiedeln. 

After leaving Pfaemkon we made our way 
towards Innsbruck. Ziegelbriicke was passed and 
Buchs and Sargans. At the latter place we 
underwent quite a nominal inspection of luggage 
at the hands of the very civil custom house 
officials of the Austrian frontier. Indeed, all 
through our journey, we were never put to in- 
convenience by such inspections. More than 
once the whole procedure resolved itself into the 
visit of a well-groomed, smartly-uniformed young 
fellow to our carriage, and the prompt answer 

120 



PFAEFFIKON— UFNAU 

to his polite inquiry whether we had anything to 
declare was often enough, without any examination 
whatever, to justify him in attaching labels like 
large postage stamps to our luggage — we had 
only moderately-sized traveling bags — in token of 
our freedom from suspicion. 

At Laachen, by an ingenious arrangement, we 
were able to get coffee in the train. The guard, 
having ascertained a short time before how many 
required it in each compartment, affixed to the 
window the necessary number of small labels, 
containing the words, " 1 portion caffee," which 
had the effect of bringing in a waiter, when the 
train stopped, with a tiny tray for each person 
containing coffee, milk, sugar, and biscuits. By 
the same method we got dinner provided for us 
in like manner on another occasion during our 
journey. 

After Ziegelbriicke the scenery began to in- 
crease in beauty. The railway ran for miles 
under the cliff-like side of a lofty mountain, 
past a lovely blue lake, known as the Wallen- 
stadter See. On the opposite side of the water 
rose giant mountains with very jagged peaks, 
upon which snow contrived to lie in occasional 
patches ; half-way up the height a few firs managed 
to cling — they looked no more imposing than 
gorse bushes trying to clothe a sandy waste. 
Low down by the shore of the lake little villages 

121 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

and detached farmhouses nestled amid the wooded 
crevices of the mountains. Such scenery extended 
for miles, the only variety afforded being the 
constant change of shape observable in the 
mountain summits. Sometimes they were split 
into spires and pinnacles, at others they rose 
in huge masses like cliffs, or loomed like imaginary 
fortresses or battlemented castles. It was an 
untiring pleasure to watch their varying forms. 

We found to our dismay when we arrived at 
Innsbruck in the dusk of the evening that the 
train we had depended upon was taken off for 
the winter months and it was now the middle 
of October. We were resigning ourselves to the 
prospect of a wait of three hours when a quick- 
witted porter suggested that we should take our 
present train to the first stopping place, some 
twenty miles or so beyond our destination, and 
then alight and take the first train back; in this 
way we should save at least an hour. This we 
accordingly did, and alighted at what was supposed 
to be Jenbach. 

We landed, bag and baggage, on the space 
between two lines of rails — as the custom is in 
most of the small German and Austrian stations 
— and the train dashed off. But where was the 
station? We stumbled about in the dark, drag- 
ging our luggage with us, knocking up against 
vagrant goods vans which stood there, and 

122 



PFAEFFIKON— UFNAU 

peering about for some sign of what looked like 
a railway station. At length, guided by the 
flickering glimmer of one or two feeble lamps, 
we came upon it some yards further on and 
proceeded to pile our bags under the vine-covered 
veranda which represented what we should call 
the covered platform. 

We were making ourselves as comfortable as 
possible under the circumstances in the dimly- 
lighted, draughty waiting-room when something 
urged me to take a walk up and down outside. 
Lucky inspiration! for I discovered that three 
out of our four articles of luggage had vanished. 
Rushing up to inspect, I became aware of a 
young porter, pipe in mouth — the Austrians seem 
never to take it out — who was diligently packing 
my bag on a truck with others in order to wheel 
it off — who knows where ! 

When peremptorily asked what he was doing, 
the youth complacently remarked that he thought 
it was the luggage for the schloss. However, we 
promptly pounced upon it and carried^ it off, 
and the unabashed porter proceeded in search of 
the right luggage. What would have happened 
had it not been for that momentary desire on 
my part for fresh air, we neither of us dared to 
contemplate. The owners of the schloss would 
probably have been almost as much discon- 
certed at the arrival of unknown foreign bag- 

123 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

gage at their door as we should have been at 
our arrival at our destination baggageless! 

It eventually transpired that the guileless 
youth with the pipe was trying to steal a march 
on his superior officer, the other porter, who 
had put the luggage of the schloss under lock 
and key, intending to convey it thither later. 
Visions of a liberal bestowal of " drink money," 
in return for his services, had induced the junior 
to steal off with some luggage — he did not seem 
particular whose it was — to get first on the 
field. 

We were amused, in spite of our annoyance, 
when, with something resembling a wink, the 
young man remarked as he passed with the 
proper baggage for the schloss heaped on his truck, 
" It's all right this time ! " 

The adventure had helped to while away the 
hours; for almost before we expected it our train 
dashed up, and carried us off once more. In 
a very short time after that we were driving up 
to the entrance gate of the Benedictine Abbey 
of Fiecht. 



124 



X 

FIECHT— ST. GEORGENBERG— SCHWAZ 



125 



X 

FIECHT— ST. GEORGENBERG— SCHWAZ 

THE Monastery of Our Lady of Dolors stands 
about a mile from the little town of Schwaz, 
in North Tyrol. Its situation is extremely beauti- 
ful. It is backed by high wooded mountains; 
in front it looks down a gentle slope towards the 
River Inn, whose waters shine always with a 
lovely blue-green tint, and across to the red roofs 
and white walls and the brownstone churches 
of Schwaz, with their varied spires and domes. 
Far beyond the town the ground rises again to 
meet giant mountains, but in front of these, 
perched aloft on a wooded rock, stands out a 
battlemented castle. Rugged peaks shine in the 
distance on all sides, filling up the horizon as seen 
from the windows of the abbey. 

The monastic buildings are of comparatively 
recent date. They were first erected in 1750, 
but were burned down in 1868, and rebuilt since. 
They present the appearance of a block of build- 
ings of plain modern style, standing in a good- 

127 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

sized garden, bordered by a circling belt of tall 
poplars. Behind the abbey rises the gable and 
tower of the church, which was only partially 
destroyed by the fire which burned down the 
monastery. The danger of future fires has been 
minimized by the introduction of electric light 
in recent years. 

The church is classical in style. It has nine 
altars, many of them adorned with very fine 
paintings and sculpture. There is a good deal 
of decoration about the interior in the way of 
frescoes, stucco-work, and gilding. The effect is 
somewhat ornate, but on the whole pleasing. 

One feature in the building struck me as 
worthy of imitation in our own churches: this 
was a strong iron screen extending across the 
building a few feet from the western wall. It 
was entered by central gates which could be 
locked when the church was not in use. By this 
arrangement no one was prevented from making 
a visit at any time — for the door was left open 
— yet there could be no danger of any inter- 
ference with sacred objects in the church. 

There were about twenty-four Fathers at 
Fiecht when we were there, but several serve 
outlying churches in the district. There is a 
school of about ninety boys in the abbey, entirely 
managed by the Fathers themselves. 

We were taken during our visit for an excur- 

128 




The Abbey of Fiecht. 




Frauen-Insel, Chiemsee. 



FIECHT— ST. GEORGENBERG— SCHWAZ 

sion up the hills to a very interesting spot. This 
was St. Georgenberg, the original site of the 
monastery and a famous place of pilgrimage in 
that district. It was, luckily, a cool morning; 
for upon the higher ground of Tyrol the atmos- 
phere was no longer oppressive, but the nights 
and early mornings began to be frosty and chill. 
Our walk, consequently, was less laborious than 
it would have been in a higher temperature. 
It began with a steady climb up a steep ascent 
by means of a slowly winding path shaded by the 
forest trees which clothed the mountain side. 
At intervals along the way were Stations of the 
Cross — not artistic, indeed, but expressive of 
deep piety on the part of their artist ; for although 
the colors were crude and the figures often un- 
gainly, there was an undeniable spirit of devotion 
about these rude paintings which one sometimes 
seeks for in vain in more finished productions. 

After an hour's toil, when, heated and fatigued, 
we began to wonder how much farther we had 
to climb, an opening in the trees that bordered 
our path framed a vision of beauty. From the 
shade of the pines which hung over us we looked 
across a wild gorge and beheld on a lofty crag 
a little white church, backed by higher moun- 
tains and surrounded by greenwood. The sun- 
light streamed unrestrained upon the gleaming 
walls and red-brown roof, and one might almost 

129 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

imagine the whole scene some mirage suspended 
over the dark ravine at our feet. 

We had to descend again and cross by a prim- 
itive plank-bridge the rushing stream which 
poured its waters of crystalline clearness down 
into the dark gorge beyond, and then turning 
we began the ascent of the mountains on the 
opposite side. We saw the group of buildings 
on the rock above us, five or six hundred feet 
high from the level of the bridge; but the sight 
gave us fresh strength. The path here was 
steeper than ever. In some places rude steps 
t had been fashioned by placing tree trunks across 
the way at intervals to facilitate the climb. 
High up among the rocks we found another and 
a larger bridge suspended across a wide cleft. 
This bridge was of wood also, but sturdy and 
safe, and protected from storms by a high-pitched 
wooden roof. At last, after nearly two hours' 
climbing, we stood at the door of the building — 
half clergy-house, half hospice — which shares with 
the little church the somewhat restricted space 
on that lonely, isolated rocky crest. 

This, as I have said, was the site of the first 
monastery. Certain hermits who had built cells 
in this solitude united into a Community in 1138, 
and, with the approbation of Pope Innocent II, 
adopted the Benedictine Rule. The abbey was 
subject to many vicissitudes in the course of its 

130 



FIECHT— ST. GEORGENBERG— SCHWAZ 

history. Four times it was burned down entirely 
and rebuilt through the offerings of princes, 
ecclesiastics, and the many pilgrims who loved 
to climb to this mountain sanctuary. At length 
it was resolved to transfer the monks to the 
site now occupied by the Abbey of Fiecht, and 
this was done early in the eighteenth century. 

St. Georgenberg had been long a place of pil- 
grimage before it became a monastery. The 
causes which led to its popularity are lost in 
obscurity. A chapel dedicated to Our Lady of 
Sorrows was erected here by Albuin, Bishop of 
Brixen, in 992, but earlier in the same century 
Ratold, a young Bavarian noble, had retired to 
a hermitage on the same spot, and had brought 
thither from Rome a picture of the Madonna, 
which he venerated in a little wooden building. 
It may have been to shelter this holy picture that 
Bishop Albuin erected his chapel and laid the 
foundations of the popular pilgrimage. However 
that may be, it is certain that from medieval 
times it has been a favorite resort in honor of 
Our Lady of Sorrows. 

The quaint little church is very interesting. 
The statue, which is the special object of devo- 
tion, is over the high altar. It is clothed in rich 
robes and veiled. The altar is profusely adorned 
with gilding and with really fine panels of silver 
repousse, representing the washing of the disciples' 

131 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

feet by Our Lord, and the Last Supper. Statues 
of St. George, St. Florian, St. James, and St. 
Ratold stand in the reredos. St. James, it may- 
be remarked, was one of Ratold' s special patrons, 
and drew him to make a pilgrimage to the fa- 
mous shrine of that Apostle at Compost ella. At 
St. Georgenberg a miracle is said to have occurred 
in the Mass in 1310; when, to strengthen the faith 
of the celebrant in a moment of doubt, the chalice 
appeared full of red blood flowing upon the cor- 
poral. The latter is still preserved as an object 
of veneration. 

On the roof of the church is a curious fresco 
representing Our Lady, St. James, St. Nothburga, 
and St. George. St. Nothburga was a local saint, 
a holy servant maid of the thirteenth century, 
whose native place is only a few miles from 
Jenbach. It was the first time I had seen St. 
George portrayed in a sacred building with the 
legendary dragon at his feet and the princess by 
his side. 

The most striking feature in the church was 
the array of ex Votos that almost covered the 
wall space. They were of all kinds and styles. 
Some were rudely painted pictures representing 
the particular incident in which Our Lady had 
assisted her client; others were records — painted, 
carved, or embroidered — of graces received. Their 
dates also were various. I noticed one of 1799, 

132 



FIECHT— ST. GEORGENBERG— SCHWAZ 

which may not have been the oldest, though 
since the place was so often destroyed previous 
to the eighteenth century it is not unlikely that 
it was. One of modern date is worthy of note: 
" Mary has helped and will still help," was its 
touching inscription. 

There was nothing strikingly beautiful about 
the little place, but everything evinced its pop- 
ularity as a place of pilgrimage. There were 
even a few visitors — simple peasants — praying 
there on the day I saw it, and on the Saturday 
after no less than five Fathers from the abbey 
climbed the mountain to hear confessions in 
preparation for the following day, which was 
specially observed throughout Tyrol in honor of 
Our Lady. 

On a mountain close by, ascended from this 
peak, was another and smaller church dedicated 
to the Blessed Trinity, and containing some 
rather good frescoes and a fine triptych, in which 
St. Nothburga and St. Barbara figured. This 
church seemed to be dismantled; probably it 
merely served the purpose of a mortuary chapel, 
when required, as there was a small cemetery 
round it containing the graves of those who had 
died on St. Georgenberg. 

The house adjoining the principal church is 
used as a residence for the Benedictine Father 
belonging to Fiecht, who is stationed there and 

133 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

takes charge of the church. But part of it serves 
the purpose of a hospice. Pilgrims are allowed 
the use of a large kitchen wherein to cook their 
simple provisions, and in the summer months 
visitors are often permitted to remain there for 
some days in properly appointed guest-rooms. 
Even in this remote spot was electric light, gen- 
erated by water-power. 

It was a wonderful view that one looked upon 
from the windows of the house, or from the 
somewhat insecure foothold of a tiny terrace 
overhanging the ravine. One stood there 2,900 
feet above sea-level, and saw far below, rushing 
through wooded heights, the little stream we had 
crossed in the morning, while away, beyond the 
next valley, were huge, bare mountains, 7,000 
feet high. 

Our way back lay by another route, through 
fields where farm-house roofs were laden thickly 
with great stones to prevent the tempestuous 
winds from carrying them off bodily, and by 
roads where mules were doing the work of horses 
in our own land, and that of oxen in Germany. 
The peasantry we met were ready with their 
pious greeting, and the little children and some- 
times older persons would reverently kiss the 
priest's anointed hand. An illustration of the 
piety of these good Tyrolese was afforded by the 
decoration of one of the houses we passed. On 

134 



FIECHT— ST. GEORGENBERG— SCHWAZ 

the wall, between the windows, was a picture of 
the Sacred Heart with the following motto: 
" The picture of the Sacred Heart, worthy of all 
love, is the best defence this house can have." 
Passing through the village of Stans, we visited 
the church, a modern building erected at the 
expense partly of the people, and partly of the 
abbey, whose Fathers serve it. No one could 
fail to admire the really beautiful building. It 
contained some very fine modern paintings and 
unusually artistic statues. Over the western 
entrance was a large mosaic of the Sacred Heart. 

On another day we visited Schwaz. On the 
bridge over the Inn was a large statue of St. John 
Nepomuc, the martyr of Prague, and in this 
country the chosen guardian of bridges, since he 
was cast from one to meet his death. 

The parish church, originally Gothic, but dis- 
figured by stucco and whitewash, contained some 
quaint old tombs. A marble tribune at the 
western end of the nave, supported on marble 
pillars, was a fine feature. There were also some 
striking Stations of the Cross in bas-relief, the 
tints of which were very chaste and beautiful. 
Near this church was a very quaint churchyard- 
chapel dedicated to St. Michael. It was divided 
into two stories. The lower part, approached 
from the level of the street, was small and dark, 
and contained little of interest. The upper church, 

135 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

too, was not in itself very striking; what con- 
stituted its chief feature was its approach. This 
was a covered staircase, composed of wide marble 
steps; the roof was of lovely Gothic, and the 
staircase was lighted by open pointed arches, 
affording a view of the quaint old town. I 
considered it the most beautiful architectural 
feature in the whole district. 

The Franciscan Convent, which we also visited, 
had in its cloisters some interesting frescoes of 
the sixteenth century, then undergoing restora- 
tion; they had been painted over by an inferior 
artist, and their existence was only accidentally 
discovered. 

The few days spent at Fiecht were full of 
interest and enjoyment. The Fathers lost no 
effort in striving to make our visit a pleasant one, 
and their kindly hospitality could not fail to 
produce that result. 

In the abbey itself there was much to engage 
our attention. It is a place which, like its ancient 
mother-house, Georgenberg, has seen many 
changes. Scarcely were its buildings completed 
when they were seized for a military hospital. 
A few years later the monastery was suppressed 
by the Bavarian Government, the monks dis- 
persed, and the revenues seized. 

When Tyrol was restored to Austria, the 
abbey was once more given to its rightful owners, 

136 



FIECHT— ST. GEORGENBERG— SCHWAZ 

but in such a miserable condition that for many 
years the monks could scarcely find the means 
of livelihood. But their troubles, borne with 
exemplary patience, have brought a reward, and 
Fiecht is once more in a vigorous and flourishing 
state. May it ever remain so. 



137 



XI 
VOLDERS— CHIEMSEE 



139 



XI 

VOLDERS— CHIEMSEE 

BEFORE leaving North Tyrol we spent some 
pleasant days in another part of that 
interesting country. Volders is a village on the 
same side of the Inn as Schwaz, and is easily 
reached by rail in less than half an hour. We 
had hospitable friends in the neighborhood, who 
were eager to entertain us, so a visit was resolved 
upon. Nothing so prosaic as a railway ride 
would satisfy us, though; we were resolved to 
travel on foot. 

Rather than take the straight level road that 
ran down the valley on the Schwaz side of the 
river, we chose the less frequented way on the 
opposite side. Through several little villages 
we passed, where every one we met saluted us 
with the pious Gr'iiss Gotl, or even came to kiss 
the priest's hand; where herds of placid cows, 
many with a great bell attached to a broad band 
of gay colors round the neck, grazed by the 
roadside under charge of some sturdy lad or 
shy little maid; where the village cross on its 

141 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

stone steps, and the village church in its " God's 
acre," with many a wayside shrine and many a 
pious picture or statue, spoke of the deep faith 
of that truly Catholic people. 

Sometimes we penetrated into somber pine 
forests, still as death; at other times the road 
lay by some mountain stream rushing on to join 
the river. Now we rose to an eminence whence 
all the valley, with its villages and farms, its 
green pasture-land, and its shorn maize fields^ 
lay spread out below, the swiftly-flowing, blue- 
green river giving a sense of life and movement 
to the picture; while opposite rose the fir-clad 
mountains, and beyond them other and more 
lofty, gaunt, bare peaks, 

One not only sees by the side of these Tyrolese 
roads — whether highway or by-path — many a 
quaint shrine to Our Lady or some favorite 
saint, or a representation of some mystery of the 
Passion — brightly colored pictures or statues be- 
hind a wire grating, and sheltered by a pent 
roof — but another species of pious memento is 
constantly met with. Wherever an accident has 
proved fatal to any one in the vicinity of a road 
or path, a tablet is erected near the spot asking 
for prayers for the soul of the victim. Some- 
times a rude painting portrays the incident — a 
restive horse overthrowing a wagon, a swollen 
torrent carrying away a helpless youth, a falling 

142 



VOLDERS— CHIEMSEE 

tree, or a stroke of lightning bringing instant 
death, and the like. 

It was by no means a dull walk on that October 
morning, nor was it an easy one. Though the 
hoar-frost lay thick on grass and herbage when 
we left Fiecht soon after eight o'clock, the sun 
grew strong as it rose higher, and made our 
march more toilsome. It was a welcome sight 
when, from our mountain path, we saw the 
bridge far below, and beyond it the church and 
monastery belonging to Volders. 

It is a spot full of interest to a Benedictine. 
When Bismarck succeeded in turning the re- 
ligious Orders out of Prussia, the monks of Beu- 
ron, who were among the fugitives, found a 
home, through the generosity of the Emperor of 
Austria, in the half-empty Servite monastery of 
Volders. There they remained for some five 
years, till other more suitable sites for Bene- 
dictine foundations enabled them to move else- 
where to dwellings of their own. 

The monastery, a large, rambling, plainly- 
built structure, stands on high ground above the 
river bank. The church is on a somewhat lower 
level. Without, the latter looks a curious little 
place; a collection of fantastic domes, with odd- 
shaped windows of oval construction, give it a 
somewhat Oriental touch. Its interior is very 
nicely frescoed with pictures representing the 

143 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

life of St. Charles Borromeo, its patron. Some 
of these pictures were extremely beautiful, and 
the faces and figures generally struck me as 
superior to those we had met with in churches 
of the district. 

The Servite Fathers were very kind and hos- 
pitable and gave us refreshments and chatted 
agreeably when we paid them a visit. They 
have a larger Community at Innsbruck, I believe, 
and Volders is merely used as a novitiate and a 
house of studies for the younger religious. We 
did not take up our residence there, as we were 
to be the welcome guests of a noble family 
residing in a village near by, and in their pleasant 
mansion we spent some delightful days. 

Railways and tourists have done much to 
modernize the Tyrolese as they do in every 
secluded spot where they penetrate. Conse- 
quently, the primitive simplicity of the people 
is being rubbed off by contact with the world, 
and ancient customs and distinctive costumes 
have to a great extent disappeared. In the 
more remote districts, however, some striking 
characteristics still survive, and one occasionally 
finds at a country railway station peasants still 
wearing a portion, at least, of the old national 
dress. The hat of the women is quite distinctive. 
It is sailor shape and always black, with very 
low crown and very wide brims; from the under 

144 



VOLDERS— CHIEMSEE 

side of the brim at the back depend two long 
broad streamers of black ribbon, sometimes reach- 
ing nearly to the heels, if the hat be the festive 
head- gear. Even very old women appear in 
such hats; but the long ribbons seem to denote 
style in the wearer, and oftener adorn younger 
heads. 

The characteristic dress of the men is more 
seldom met with now, though on a Sunday or 
special holiday it may occasionally be seen in 
public. It consists of short breeches, often of 
green velvet much decorated with silver or brass 
buttons; these leave the knees bare, though I 
have seen white under-breeches showing at the 
knee. The stockings are often green and are 
gartered with bright ribbons. The jacket is 
short and also trimmed with many buttons. 
The hat is of felt, narrow-brimmed and some- 
what conical in shape; it may be brown or gray 
or green, but it invariably has a tuft of feathers 
fastened at the back — sometimes a single brush- 
like feather will stand erect and curl on the 
crown, but this again is evidently a stylish trait. 
Green seems the favorite color in these male 
costumes. 

Some quaint, old-world customs still linger 
in spite of railways, and even among the edu- 
cated classes. At a meal, for instance, in the 
clergy houses, it is not uncommon to get soup 

145 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

served last, as I have myself noticed, and I have 
been assured by a friend that on one such occasion 
the meal began with fruit and ended with soup, 
after the traditionary Chinese fashion. It is very 
unusual to sit down to a meal, either in Tyrol or 
South Germany, without having your health 
proposed, and oftentimes the attendant will wish 
you good health, with the words " zum wohl," 
when serving you with wine or beer. Many other 
little traits might be quoted. 

The food, too, and the style of cooking differ 
somewhat from the kitchens of Germany and 
Switzerland. I have recollections of soup in 
which floated large fynoedcls or dumplings, com- 
posed of flour, and containing shreds of ham. 
They were as large as apples, and one was ex- 
pected to eat two or three — a portion broken up 
in the soup, and the remainder dry with sauer- 
kraut. A terrible appetizer was administered to 
us on one occasion in the shape of a home-dis- 
tilled liqueur known as " Schnapps," which, we 
were told, was made from pears; though from 
the nastiness of the compound I should never 
have thought it. In taste it resembled raw spirit, 
with a dash of turpentine thrown in as a flavor. 
I could never be persuaded to repeat the experi- 
ment. 

There is one characteristic of the Tyrolese 
which they cling to in spite of all other changes, 

146 



VOLDERS— CHIEMSEE 

and that is a staunch attachment to their Faith. 
It is a part of their daily life, and enters into every 
circumstance connected with it. May it be long 
before that child-like, simple spirit becomes tar- 
nished by the infidelity of the age. 

We traveled from Volders in the direction of 
Munich. Brixlegg, whose station we passed, is 
famous for a Passion Play, which, from its still 
primitive character, is beginning to rival the 
more polished performance of Ober-Ammergau. 
At Kufstein we were turned out of our train to 
pass the Custom House inspection. It was an- 
noying to have to wait behind locked doors 
until all luggage had been examined, but other- 
wise the officials were very lenient with us. 
Kufstein is remarkable for the picturesque fort- 
ress which overshadows the little town. It is a 
gloomy-looking, medieval stronghold, which has 
played an important part in border warfare 
during the centuries which have passed over it. 
Enthroned on its isolated crag, it looks practically 
impregnable. 

We were bound for a lovely spot somewhat 
out of the direct route to Munich. On an island 
in the great inland lake of Bavaria known as 
Chiemsee stands an ancient Benedictine monas- 
tery for nuns, where a friend of mine was a 
member of the Community. To reach it we had 
to take a branch line and alight at the little 

147 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

town of Prien on the very border of the lake in 
question. It was late in the afternoon when, by 
the help of the friendly station-master, we man- 
aged to engage a boat, with two men to row it, 
to enable us to reach the island we sought. 

Chiemsee contains two important islands. One 
of them, at about the ninth century, was appro- 
priated to a monastery for men, and hence re- 
ceived the name of Herrn-Insel; the other, 
devoted to nuns, was called Frauen-Insel. The 
monks were succeeded by Austin Canons during 
the Middle Ages, and these latter were driven 
away in the general suppression of religious 
Orders during Napoleon's time. The monastery 
was turned into a royal palace, and used as such 
until the mad King, Ludwig II, built on the island 
the gorgeous but tasteless imitation of Versailles, 
which cost the royal purse some £1,800,000 in 
English computation, and is now merely a show 
place for the benefit of summer visitors to the 
spot. 

The nuns also on Frauen-Insel saw hard times. 
They were forbidden to receive novices, and 
eventually all died off with the exception of three. 
When Ludwig I came to the throne he revived 
the ancient cloister, and now there are more 
than fifty nuns serving God there. 

Our row across was a chilly and somewhat 
tempestuous journey, for a strong wind was 

148 



VOLDERS— CHIEMSEE 

against us. However, we reached our destination 
at last, and met with a warm reception from the 
good chaplain, whose guests we were during our 
short stay, which amply compensated for our 
previous discomfort. 

The whole island once belonged to the nuns, 
but now it is shared by the inhabitants of the 
small village which has grown up around the 
monastery. The church is served by a parish 
priest, and a special chaplain says Mass for the 
nuns in their private chapel, which is formed 
from a portion of the public church, shut off by 
a close screen. It was very pleasant to hear 
the nuns supplying the Gregorian music for the 
Missa Cantata from a latticed gallery in connec- 
tion with their own choir, while nearly all the 
population devoutly followed the Mass from the 
body of the church. 

The little building itself is full of interest. 
It is about eight hundred years old, though it 
has undergone changes and additions at various 
times. From a deep stone porch, entered from 
the churchyard — where the gravestones have little 
stoups of holy water attached to each and the 
graves are bright with flowers — you descend two 
or three steps to the level of the church. It has 
a nave and aisles, and on one side a small chantry 
opens out from the aisle, from which it is separated 
by iron gratings. The place is full of tombstones 

149 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

to deceased abbesses and nuns; many of them 
are of brown marble and carved in bas-relief 
with representations of religious in full habit. 
A larger tomb, near the baptistery, is that of a 
nun who died in the odor of sanctity and whose 
memory is much cherished by the convent. 

The quaint old carvings and paintings in 
various parts of the church and the general air 
of antiquity that hangs about the place make 
it very attractive. One peculiar feature is the 
appropriation as pews for the body of the church 
of old stalls formerly belonging to the nuns. 
They are placed in rows like ordinary seats, but 
each person has a separate stall, with " miseri- 
corde " complete. 

The island presents few attractions indepen- 
dent of the church and monastery. We walked 
round it in a few minutes' space. The massive 
walls of the monastery garden rise up to the 
height of some twelve feet or more from the very 
edge of the water on that side of the island. 
The lake and its surrounding scenery are very 
fine. Beyond it rise the Bavarian Alps, almost 
always speckled with snow patches even in sum- 
mer. Their giant masses form a fitting back- 
ground to the charming picture of Frauen-Insel 
as seen from the larger island. 

I had visited the place some years before 
during the summer season, when the extreme 

150 



VOLDERS- CHIEMSEE 

beauty of the surroundings could not fail to 
impress one. Yet with winter near at hand, 
there were still many charms about the island. 
In my previous visit I had seen Herrn-Insel 
and the costly magnificence of the palace there. 

The view of that island from Frauen-Insel 
called up visions of much gorgeous splendor — ■ 
paintings and statues by contemporary artists in 
a setting of many mirrors, heavily-embroidered 
draperies of crimson, purple, green, or blue vel- 
vet, and a profusion of stucco and gilding; but 
the recollection brought no temptation to repeat 
the visit thither. The " Nun's Island," with its 
old-world simplicity, possessed attractions far 
greater than that huge monument of reckless 
extravagance. 

When the time came to bid farewell to that 
pleasant spot, a stalwart boatman was at our 
disposal to transport us and our belongings in 
the course of an hour or two to the ' main- 
land, whence the train speedily whirled us to the 
capital. 



151 



XII 
MUNICH— SALZBURG 



153 



XII 
MUNICH— SALZBURG 

MY recollections of Munich, dating from an 
earlier visit, pictured it as a beautiful 
modern city, its buildings noble and massive, 
its broad streets and squares ornamented with 
trees and shrubs. A second visit considerably 
added to my previous admiration for this truly 
magnificent capital, for further acquaintance 
brought to my knowledge many objects of interest 
insufficiently realized before. 

Our headquarters were at the Benedictine 
Abbey of St. Boniface. It is but a short drive 
from the station and in a very central part of 
the city. Even a perfect stranger to Munich 
would learn in a very short time the national 
color. It is evident everywhere. Cab-drivers 
wear blue with red and white facings and silver 
trimmings; telegraph officials and post office 
clerks — all under the government in Bavaria — 
appear in a uniform of blue and silver; and blue 
and white are the colors of the national flag. 

155 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

The " Basilica " of St. Boniface, as Munich 
people like to style it, is a comparatively modern 
building, for it celebrated a few years ago the 
golden jubilee of its consecration. Its founder 
was the liberal patron of art and literature, King 
Ludwig I, who spent no less a sum than £100,000 
upon the church and monastery. Exteriorly, 
the basilica is unimposing, though it possesses a 
graceful simplicity. It is built of red brick with 
stone facings. An atrium or portico, supported 
on round stone pillars, shelters the western 
entrances. The interior, however, is much more 
ornate. It is in Romanesque style, and, though 
necessarily much smaller, is evidently a repro- 
duction to some extent of St. Paul's, Rome. It 
has, like St. Paul's, double aisles; these are 
divided by circular arches supported on mono- 
lith pillars of gray marble. The whole of the 
wall space is either faced with marble or frescoed. 
Over the arches are small medallions of the 
Popes; higher still are beautifully executed paint- 
ings representing scenes in the life of St. Boni- 
face. The sanctuary is raised above the level 
of the nave by a flight of some twelve broad 
steps of marble. The High Altar is of various 
inlaid marbles, and behind it extends an apsidal 
choir fitted with canopied stalls of dark oak. 
In the roof of the apse, on a gold ground, are 
portrayed the figures of the patron of the church 

156 




M ARIENPLATZ (PLACE OP MARY), MUNICH. 




Basilica op St. Boniface, Munich. 



MUNICH— SALZBURG 

and other saints, while up above is a representa- 
tion of Our Lord in glory. The church is indeed 
a worthy regal gift to the King of kings. 

The monastery buildings stand at the back 
of the church. They are of considerable size, 
and are built of brick with white stone facings 
and window frames. The Fathers are kept fully 
employed by the care of their enormous parish, 
containing some 50,000 souls out of the 300,000 
Catholics of Munich; they are really too few 
for the burden of exterior work which is demanded 
of them in addition to the daily choir duties 
which form an integral part of the routine of a 
Benedictine monastery. 

This short sketch is not intended for a " Guide 
to Munich"; it would take far more pages than 
I have at command to describe that wonderful 
city adequately. It will be sufficient if we glance 
at some of the more striking features which 
present themselves to the notice of the passing 
visitor. Of churches beside that of St. Boni- 
face, the Cathedral, and the Chapel Royal, there 
is little to record. Most of them are in the 
most pronounced style of Renaissance art — teem- 
ing with cherubs, gilded clouds, bulky wreaths, 
and fluttering drapery. But of the other two 
I have mentioned something must be said. 

The Cathedral, or " Dom," as it is called, 
is a truly noble church. It is in rather severe 

157 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

Gothic with very massive octagonal columns sup- 
porting its narrow pointed arches, and long 
narrow windows filled with richly-toned, painted 
glass. It is gloriously high, and I well remem- 
ber the sudden change from the glare of the street 
to the cool, dim atmosphere with its sense of 
fathomless depths and vast vaults overhead. 

The Chapel Royal, a building some sixty 
years old, is a splendid specimen of ecclesiastical 
magnificence. It is classical in style, and its 
rich marbles and fine paintings are worthy of a 
king's place of worship. One seldom sees so 
much splendor combined with perfect taste in 
fittings and adornments. Its services are open 
to the general public. 

The Royal Palace, near which the Chapel 
Royal is situated, is surrounded by a kind of 
open cloister, known as the " Arcades." These 
arcades run all round a great part of the palace 
precincts. They contain some interesting frescoes 
of historical subjects and wonderfully carved 
wooden statues. 

The Public Library is said to be the third 
best in Europe. The building is magnificent 
with its fine broad staircase of granite steps 
and its marble pillars. In this vast pile are 
housed nearly a million and a half volumes, 
and about £30,000 are spent annually upon 
the institution. When we visited it there hap- 

158 



MUNICH— SALZBURG 

pened to be a special exhibition in one of the 
halls of illuminated and other manuscripts. It 
was thus our good fortune to be able to inspect 
the most wonderful specimens of artistic work 
of the kind that could be imagined. The splen- 
did painting and lettering of illuminated Missals 
and Breviaries, dating from the tenth to the 
fifteenth centuries, surpassed all imagination. 
Then many of these manuscripts were encased 
in bindings rich with gold and encrusted with 
gems. Many autographs of notable personages 
were on view, too; a sheet of Mozart's manu- 
script music, letters of Beethoven, Wagner, and 
others, and autographs of celebrities of less 
worthy memory — Luther, Calvin, Zwinglius and 
the like — made up an exceptional collection. 

The Benedictine Father who accompanied us 
was well known to the chief librarian, and through 
his influence we were admitted into the large 
rooms where the books are stored — range above 
range — to be sought for by officials when re- 
quired by a reader. It was here that an amus- 
ing incident happened. The assistant who took 
us round had neglected to close the door, and 
on returning we met an elderly minister and 
a lady who looked like his daughter, who had 
both strayed in through the half-open door — 
as the way of tourists is — to see what there was 
to be seen. The old gentleman, who appeared 

159 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

to be of the Nonconformist type, and was either 
English or American, advanced gaily and ac- 
costed our guide with all the assurance in the 
world. " Oh, no! I only speak English," he 
said, in answer to the official's inquiry, and pro- 
ceeded to pour out a flood of questions in that 
tongue, as though all the world ought to know 
it, whether they did or not. One of our party 
in the spirit of kindness interpreted for him as 
much information as was possible at the moment; 
but his thirst for knowledge was great, and his 
self-assurance greater; for we left him still talking 
loud-voiced English to the puzzled official, as we 
descended the stairs on our way out. 

It would be difficult to find a more splendid 
specimen of a municipal building than the Courts 
of Justice. The spacious central hall, with its 
marble pavement and pillars, its granite stair- 
case, its gilded iron balustrades, its beautiful 
statuary, is truly superb. 

Of all the public buildings, though, we were 
most enchanted with the Pinakothek or Gallery 
of Paintings. The building itself, Hke so many 
others in this noble city, is truly palatial; but 
its contents are beyond description. The visitor 
traverses room after room filled with a priceless 
collection of pictures by the greatest painters 
the world has seen. All the celebrated masters 
are represented there, from the tender spirituality 

160 




Salzburg. 




An Old Portal, Salzburg. 



MUNICH— SALZBURG 

of Fra Angelico, and the more robust schools of 
Lippi, Perugino, Botticelli, Ghirlandajo, and Ra- 
phael, to the fleshy studies of Rubens and the 
gloomy severity of Van Dyck. 

A collection, such as this, which all are free 
to visit when they will, is a boon to the citizens 
of Munich which they evidently appreciate. Be- 
sides the throngs of sightseers, passing in hushed 
reverence through those softly carpeted halls, there 
were innumerable artists at work reproducing this 
or that picture upon the canvas before them, 
with more or less fidelity. 

The Glyptothek, or Exhibition of Statuary, 
an institution no less interesting, stands not far 
from the Pinakothek. This is also a really mag- 
nificent building exteriorly. Unfortunately the 
shortness of our visit did not permit of our enter- 
ing it. 

Munich has other attractions besides its beau- 
tiful buildings. The "English Park," so called 
from its resemblance to London's Hyde Park, 
with its ornamental water on which swans dis- 
port themselves, and its Rotten Row for eques- 
trians, is well worthy of a visit. 

It is not the least of the attractions of this 
lovely city that its people seem so genuinely Cath- 
olic. The clerical dress and the religious habit 
are everywhere respected, and religion has evi- 
dently a high place in the esteem of the people 

161 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

generally. I well remember being struck with the 
number and devotion of the worshippers in the 
Dom, at an early Rosary and Benediction during 
October; moreover they were not made up of 
members of the leisured classes merely, as such 
afternoon congregations often are in our own as 
in other lands. 

On leaving Munich we passed once more the 
Austrian frontier, for we were to visit several 
other monasteries of the empire. Our first rest- 
ing-place was the ancient Abbey of St. Peter 
at Salzburg. It is a monastery of great antiquity, 
whose foundation by St. Rupert, Apostle of 
Bavaria, dates from the seventh century. In the 
eighth century it took the rule of St. Benedict 
and from that period, through many vicissitudes, 
St. Peter's has flourished as an abbey of the 
illustrious Order of that holy Patriarch. 

The impression one gains from a visit to this 
ancient monastery is that it is of immense extent. 
A large courtyard with buildings round the four 
sides is first entered. The church is at one 
corner of this. Even this much would make a 
sufficiently huge monastery, but there are other 
wings — innumerable as it would seem — stretching 
in other directions, and, besides the first court- 
yard and one within the precincts, another and 
larger quadrangle with a garden in the center 
running by the north wall of the church. Then 

162 



MUNICH— SALZBURG 

the flights of stone stairs, the galleries, the various 
apartments present a bewildering combination to 
a stranger. I well remember being led to the 
church to say Mass on the morning after my 
arrival, and passing through a labyrinth of pas- 
sages out into an open cloister, and again through 
devious ways into the sacristy and eventually 
to the church. It was a hopeless impossibility 
to attempt to find one's way back alone. 

There is not much beauty about the buildings 
except in the old cloisters, which struck me as 
exceedingly picturesque with their round arches 
looking into a wooded garden. One seldom sees 
a real old Gothic monastery in Germany or 
Austria; nearly all have undergone either so- 
called restoration or entire rebuilding in a later 
and less ecclesiastical style. 

Still St. Peter's is intensely interesting not only 
on account of its antiquity — for it boasts of 
about eighty-six abbots in direct succession dur- 
ing thirteen centuries of existence — but also for 
the few portions which still exist of its earlier 
buildings. It possesses, too, a splendid library 
of over 40,000 volumes. Its surroundings, also, 
are striking in the extreme. Behind one wing 
of the outer quadrangle the ground rises abruptly 
to the altitude of the spire of the abbey church, 
and a huge battlemented fortress stands on the 
summit of the cliff-like height. This is Hohen- 

163 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

salzburg, once the residence of the Prince-Bishops, 
now used as a prison and barracks. If one climbs 
this hill by a side-road one comes to Nonnberg, 
where the monastery of nuns — also founded by 
St. Rupert, whose niece was the first Abbess — 
overlooks the old town in the valley with its 
ancient walls and city gates. From thence may 
be gained a wonderful view across snow-capped 
mountain ranges of which the citizens are justly 
proud. 

The cathedral, not far from the abbey, is also 
worthy of a visit. It is lofty and spacious with 
marble pavements, and contains many fine paint- 
ings and some interesting monuments, mostly of 
scarlet-robed ecclesiastics (Prince-Bishops and 
other dignitaries) connected with the See. 

It grated somewhat on our sense of freedom 
and love of privacy to have to fill up a printed 
form, before leaving Salzburg, for the benefit 
of the police authorities of the city, stating the 
date of one's arrival, day of departure, destina- 
tion, number of companions, and the like. The 
guest-house of a monastery in Austria would 
thus seem to fall under the same rules as an 
ordinary hotel in this respect. 

A longer stay would doubtless have brought 
to light more numerous objects of interest, but 
time was pressing and we had to push on with 
our journey. 

164- 



XIII 
LAMBACH 



165 



XIII 
LAMBACH 

A SHORT run of two hours by rail from 
Salzburg brought us to Lambach, in Up- 
per Austria. As the train slackened speed out- 
side the station we saw on the high ground above 
the railway a cluster of buildings of striking 
magnitude. It was evident at the first glance 
that the long stretch of many-windowed struc- 
tures — the twin towers of a church with min- 
aret-like cupolas rising in their rear — could be 
none other than the Benedictine Abbey of Our 
Lady and St. Chilian, to which we were bound. 
The monastery has a long and varied his- 
tory. Its founder was St. Adalberon, Bishop of 
Wurzburg, a descendant of the Counts of Lam- 
bach. When driven from his episcopal See by 
the Emperor Henry IV he retired to his family 
estate, where he had already established a Com- 
munity of priests, to take spiritual charge of the 
surrounding district, its villages and hamlets. 
In 1056 he changed the character of this founda- 
tion by bringing there a Community of Bene- 

167 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

dictine monks from his own diocese, for whom 
be built a monastery. He consecrated the church 
in 1089. Its dedication in honor of St. Chilian 
and his companions, as secondary patrons after 
Our Blessed Lady, was naturally to be expected. 
St. Chilian, a noble Irishman, passed over to 
the Continent in the seventh century and, in 
company with fellow-missionaries, preached the 
Christian Faith in the district known then as 
Lower Franconia, and settled at the little village 
which was afterwards to expand into the city 
of Wurzburg. Their preaching was at first re- 
ceived favorably, but when the intrepid priest 
opposed the incestuous union of the prince with 
his brother's widow, both Chilian and his com- 
panions were put to death by assassins hired 
for the purpose, and thus obtained the martyr's 
crown for their zeal in defence of conjugal 

purity. 

The martyrs were buried in some obscure 
spot, but their remains were miraculously made 
known in the following century, and were carried 
away by the Christians to a more honorable 
place of sepulture. They eventually found a 
shrine in the Cathedral of Wurzburg. They 
became the special patrons, not only of the city, 
but of the whole of Franconia. Many churches 
were dedicated to them, and their feast was 
observed on the 8th of July, in the Cathedral 

168 




Thk Abbey op Lambach, from the South. 




Ante-rooms to Library, Lambach. 



LAMBACH 

of Wurzburg, in the Middle Ages, with a mag- 
nificence of ceremonial seldom witnessed in any- 
city in these days. 

St. Adalberon lived but one year after the con- 
secration of his church at Lambach. He died 
in the odor of sanctity, and was laid to rest in 
the abbey-church. He has since been vene- 
rated as a saint. 

The Abbey of Lambach underwent many 
severe trials in the course of its history. In the 
thirteenth century it was burned by the Bava- 
rians. Under the disturbing influences of the 
Lutheran revolt it suffered considerably both 
in discipline and prestige. When more peace- 
ful days dawned, however, it recovered its for- 
mer status, and successive Abbots did much 
to beautify and enlarge the material buildings, 
as well as promote the advance of their subjects 
in religious virtues. Thus in the latter half of 
the seventeenth century a new church was erected 
and the monastery greatly enlarged. 

Lambach, like so many other religious Houses 
of the time, was suppressed towards the end of 
the eighteenth century, and, though the monks 
still clung to their home, it was devoted to mili- 
tary uses more than once during the French 
invasion of the country. It survived all these 
and similar disasters through God's help, and has 
gone on steadily regaining its spiritual influence 

169 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

and its temporal prosperity from the time of the 
restoration of regular monastic observance to 
this day. 

It was late in the afternoon when the train 
deposited us on the platform of Lambach sta- 
tion, but we were expected by our kind hosts, 
and the Prior himself awaited our arrival in the 
station, and led us out to the carriage which 
he had brought to convey us to the monastery. 
We started off at a rattling pace, the pair of 
pretty little horses, under the guidance of a skill- 
ful coachman, dashing through the quiet town 
and up the hill to the abbey, curving round 
through the narrow, arched gateway in splendid 
style. 

The approach is very striking. The entrance 
to the monastery is reached by an imposing 
flight of steps at the further end of the outer 
quadrangle. The entrance to the church is close 
by; for the church stands behind the monastery 
and is approached through the Beicht Saal, or 
Hall of Confessionals — a large apartment con- 
taining some fine painting and statuary, where 
confessions are chiefly heard. 

It was a pleasure to find that in this monas- 
tery I was not relegated to a guest-house, but 
was allowed to occupy one of the rooms in the 
monastic enclosure. Nothing could exceed the 
thoughtful kindness and fraternal charity shown 

170 



LAMBACH 

by the Fathers throughout our visit. No effort 
was spared to make us feel thoroughly at home 
in this truly Benedictine house. In consequence, 
the few days spent there are among the most 
memorable of our journey. Family bereave- 
ment had caused the temporary absence of the 
Lord Abbot, but the Prior was indefatigable 
in his attentive courtesy to his foreign visi- 
tors. 

The abbey buildings are very extensive and 
possess the charm, often attaching to an ancient 
institution, of being varied in style; owing to 
their peculiar situation on the hillside they stand 
on many different levels. It was delightful to 
wander about the roomy corridors and passages, 
examining the many pious works of art they 
contained; to come across some quadrangular 
garden, hitherto unvisited, or a flight of steps 
leading to unexplored regions in another story; 
still more pleasant was it to be able to do so 
without fear of being called to account for tres- 
passing. 

It must not be supposed, though, that no 
attempt was made to show us the sights. Every- 
thing that was likely to interest us was diligently 
pointed out by our kind host, but one can always 
find something to see in a second inspection of 
an interesting place such as this. 

To attempt a detailed description of Lambach 

171 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

would take too long. I must content myself 
with some account of its chief features. The 
church, as I have said, is entered through the large 
hall devoted to the administration of the Sac- 
rament of Penance. An iron screen, similar to 
that I noticed at Fiecht, permitted entrance to 
the lower portion of the church at any time. 
The architecture is classical in style. There are 
many paintings and statues which are very 
striking. A large plain slab in the pavement, 
just before the entrance to the sanctuary, marks 
the spot of St. Adalberon's first tomb. His re- 
mains have been removed from thence and now 
repose near one of the side altars. An elaborately 
sculptured marble monument on the south wall 
eulogizes the virtues and miracles of the holy 
prelate; it was erected by one of the later 
Abbots, some six centuries after the Bishop's 
death. 

Opening from the sanctuary is a dark little 
chapel, decorated with an imitation of ancient 
frescoes. It proved on examination to be a 
replica of the Holy House at Loretto. Beyond 
that again is another chapel used as a baptistery. 
The choir of the Fathers, high up on the north 
side, is entered from the first floor of the mon- 
astery; it is quite separate from the church, 
except that small arches, closed with glass screens, 
open from it into the sanctuary. 

172 



LAMBACH 

The treasures of the sacristy here are full of 
interest. Some of the splendid embroidery from 
old sixteenth century vestments has been re- 
mounted on new silk or velvet, producing a 
magnificent effect. The altar plate, too, is re- 
markably rich. Some of the chalices are literally 
encrusted with real gems — diamonds, rubies, and 
emeralds; others are adorned with very fine 
enamel work. Reliquaries, banners, tapestries 
are numerous, and some of them very costly. 

The public apartments of the monastery are 
also very fine. The library contains about 40,000 
volumes. Near it a fireproof chamber had lately 
been constructed in which to preserve the choice 
manuscripts belonging to the abbey. These 
number more than seven hundred. Some of 
them are truly wonderful. There are splen- 
didly illuminated Breviaries and Missals, dating 
from the twelfth to the sixteenth century, full of 
the most delicate, artistic work. One Breviary 
of the sixteenth century is a marvel of the 
painter's skill. 

The refectory in use when we were there was 
that reserved for the winter months, on account 
of the convenience of warming it. The summer 
refectory is much larger and far more ornate. 
It is a spacious and lofty hall, decorated with 
fine frescoes of suitable Scriptural scenes. One of 
these represents the angels ministering to Our 

173 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

Lord after His forty days' fast; another, Moses 
striking the rock in the desert to bring forth 
water for the thirsting Israelites. There are 
beautifully inlaid doors to this refectory. Out- 
side in the cloister is a feature met with in the 
remains of many of the old English and Scottish 
monasteries: this is a large marble washing- 
place; the water flowing from the mouths of 
angelic figures. 

The Chapter House has been more recently 
decorated in Gothic style with mural paintings 
of ecclesiastical symbols and floral designs. The 
altar has a beautiful reredos containing figures of 
saints. The cloisters, too, contain some fine 
modern works of art. 

In the entrance court through which we drove 
on our arrival are some more public apartments 
than those I have described which are situated 
within the monastic enclosure. The first of these 
is the suite of rooms set apart to serve as a picture 
gallery. Here are gathered the most important 
of the paintings which have come into the pos- 
session of the abbey from time to time. Many 
of these are copies of the great masters, but there 
are a few valuable original paintings in the col- 
lection. 

Another hall has been fitted up as a theatre 
with complete stage, scenery, and appointments. 
Here the young men of the town, under the train- 

174 



LAMBACH 

ing of one of the Fathers, get up plays for their 
own amusement and that of their friends and 
neighbors during the long winter evenings. 

In another wing are situated the extensive 
cellars of the abbey; other portions of the build- 
ings are employed as a school; for the Fathers 
instruct and care for a certain number of orphan 
boys, by means of endowments arranged for that 
purpose by a former Abbot. Some of the little 
fellows were to be seen working in the sacristy 
and assisting in serving the many Masses; others 
were to be heard taking part in the music of the 
Conventual Mass, when, in company with others 
from the parish school, they formed a tuneful 
choir. 

The minster is the parish church of Lambach, 
and the Fathers have the spiritual charge of its 
people, and serve other parishes in the neighbor- 
hood also. The position of the great abbey as 
the ruling influence in the little town, the con- 
stant canonical prayer, rising from the choir 
of monks there, and the spiritual labors of the 
Fathers among the people, stirred up wistful 
memories of our own land in pre-Reformation 
times, when many such a religious House carried 
on a like work. Lambach has had its troubles 
and persecutions and has survived them all, 
and flourishes in greater vigor because of their 
purifying influence. Is it too much to hope 

175 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

that the same great Order of St. Benedict, which 
did so much for England and Scotland in past 
ages, may still be destined to grow apace, in both 
kingdoms, and once again become a mighty power 
for good amongst their peoples? Such must 
surely be the prayer of all who desire their coun- 
try's spiritual welfare. 



176 



XIV 
PRAGUE 



177 



XIV 
PRAGUE 

ALONG night journey is never a pleasant 
feature in railway traveling, particularly 
when one has reason to fear a tolerably crowded 
train. A friendly guard, however, can do much 
to ward off discomforts. Thus it came about 
that we secured a compartment all to ourselves 
on the long run northwards from Linz through 
Budweis, and slept almost peacefully for some 
hours entirely undisturbed. At an early hour 
in the chill morning we found ourselves at Prague. 
Our headquarters were once more one of the 
monasteries of the Beuron Benedictines. The 
Abbey of Our Lady of Montserrat, commonly 
known as " Emmaus," was founded in 1348 
by the Emperor Charles IV. For more than 
twenty years the monks made use of the little 
church of SS. Cosmas and Damian, hard by, 
until in 1372 the present abbey church was con- 
secrated. At first the Mass and Divine Office, 
by special privilege, were celebrated in the Slav- 
onic tongue. The monastery suffered much from 

179 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

the Hussite heretics. In the seventeenth century 
a new colony of monks was introduced from 
Montserrat and this gained the monastery, 
which was then greatly renovated, its present 
title. In 1880 the Emperor of Austria bestowed 
it upon the Beuron congregation, the few re- 
maining monks of the old foundation being 
provided with a smaller monastery outside the 
city. 

The church is in beautiful Gothic style and 
has been enriched with remarkably fine frescoes 
by the Beuron artists. The monastic buildings' 
approached through a large courtyard, are of 
considerable size. They stand round a cloister 
garth planted as a garden. The Gothic cloisters 
are lighted by glazed windows, for the winters 
there are very severe. Some very fine old mural 
paintings on the interior walls are just now 
arousing much interest. They are of great an- 
tiquity — probably dating from the era of the 
foundation of the monastery — and the civil 
authorities have, therefore, claimed the right to 
forbid any interference with them. A curious 
custom still survives in this monastery. From 
time immemorial the anniversary of the dedica- 
tion of the church — Easter Monday, when the 
Gospel of the Mass relates the journey of the two 
disciples to Emmaus — the people of Prague have 
maintained the privilege of going to Emmaus 

180 



PRAGUE 

also, by entering the monastic enclosure and 
roaming about the cloisters and garden at will. 
A strenuous effort made some years ago to pre- 
vent, or at least curtail, this traditional incursion 
utterly failed; the monks, therefore, have to con- 
tent themselves with keeping, as far as possible, 
to the upper floors, which have to be carefully 
guarded from intrusion, while thousands of men, 
women and children, of the excursionist type, 
wander about below stairs from morning till even- 
ing. When at last the crowds have retired the 
place remains some inches deep in congealed 
mud, brought in upon the boots of the visitors, 
liberally sprinkled with sandwich papers. Should 
any incautious Father make his appearance in 
the crowd, he is an object of unrestrained curi- 
osity to many pairs of prying eyes. A special 
sermon is always preached in the church on this 
day, for the benefit of these persistent, though 
scarcely pious, pilgrims. 

The old church of SS. Cosmas and Damian 
still stands in the outer court of the abbey, and 
is used for Mass constantly. The principal 
services, however, take place in the large church 
of " Emmaus." A beautiful chapel to the south 
of the church, known as the " Kaiser Kapelle," 
or Emperor's Chapel, is used for the early morn- 
ing offices during the winter months. On the 
south of the sanctuary of the great church stands 

181 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

the chapel of Our Lady of Montserrat. The 
chapel is richly adorned and contains a large 
seated statue of Our Lady, a replica of that 
venerated in the celebrated Spanish monastery 
from which the devotion to this image was 
brought when the Abbey of Emmaus was re- 
peopled by monks from Spain. 

The city of Prague is one of the most beauti- 
ful in Europe; but its beauty consists not so 
much in splendid buildings and regularly ar- 
ranged streets as in its almost unrivaled natural 
position and its air of medieval quaintness. As 
one approaches it the striking feature is the num- 
ber of towers and spires which rise above its 
buildings. Hence the familiar saying: 

"Praga, plena turribus at malis odoribus." 

Or, as we should put it in English: 

" Prague, replete with towers and evil odors." 

Unfortunately the latter part of the descrip- 
tion is equally true with the former; but in this 
particular Prague does not stand alone among 
Continental towns. It is situated on both banks 
of the Moldau, a tributary of the Elbe, and it 
is possible to navigate from the North Sea as far 
as Prague by means of the two rivers. The 
Moldau here is wide, but somewhat shallow; 
to render it navigable it is spanned by frequent 

182 



PRAGUE 

dams with narrow openings on alternate sides of 
the river. It is interesting to witness the prog- 
ress of the immense rafts of timber — some of 
them a quarter of a mile in length — which float 
down from the forests in the north of Bohemia 
in late springtide; they are formed of large trees 
lashed together, and upon them travel numerous 
workmen in wooden huts to guide these rough 
crafts. The rafts shoot through with the current 
from one dam to another, describing a serpen- 
tine course down the broad river as they pass 
from side to side towards the narrow outlets. 

Prague is built in four fairly distinct quar- 
ters. On the right bank of the river are the 
" Old " and " New Town," on the left are Hrad- 
schin, or the " Royal City," and Smichov, a 
more modern district. 

Prague was founded by the Bohemian Prin- 
cess Libussa, in the eighth century. Its time 
of greatest prosperity was, undoubtedly, during 
the reign of the Emperor Charles IV (1346-1378). 
That monarch erected many of the beautiful 
Gothic buildings which still remain, and many 
too which have disappeared. In the fourteenth 
century it must have been almost without parallel 
for its picturesque appearance. 

The Alt Stadt, or Old City, is, of course, 
the most ancient part. Some of its remaining 
buildings are of magnificent architecture. The 

183 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

Ralhaus, or Town Hall, of fourteenth century 
Gothic, is the most striking. The large clock, 
in a prominent position on the building, is a 
wonderful piece of mechanism. When it strikes 
twelve, from the openings in its face issue the 
figures of Our Lord and the Twelve Apostles, 
and as each figure passes Him in procession 
Our Lord salutes it by bowing His head; but 
when Judas passes He remains erect. The un- 
fortunate clockmaker was condemned by order 
of the town authorities to lose his eyesight, lest 
he should enrich any other city with a similar 
masterpiece. In the Old City is also the Teyn- 
kirche, once a center of the Hussite heretics; 
it is a beautiful Gothic church, and contains the 
tomb of Tycho Brahe, the renowned astronomer. 
The streets of this quarter are narrow and wind- 
ing; it was formerly surrounded by a wall, 
and some of the ancient towers still stand — 
magnificent specimens of architecture. At one 
period the Judenstadt, or Jew's quarter, in this 
part of the city, contained the most flourishing 
community of Jews and the oldest synagogue in 
all Europe. 

Built round about the Old City is that 
known as the Neu Stadt, This quarter is largely 
made up of religious and charitable institutions. 
Here are to be found the chief schools, con- 
vents, hospitals, almshouses, and the like. It 

184 




Carl's Bridge, Prague. 




Seckau, from the Northeast. 



PRAGUE 

is in this district that the Abbey of Emmaus is 
situated. The splendid buildings of the Bo- 
hemian Museum, the Rudolphinum, or Academy 
of Arts, the Clemenlinum, or Episcopal Seminary, 
the Carlhof, or ancient palace, now a hospital, 
are among the most striking erections of the 
New City. Here also are the University build- 
ings of enormous extent. In the Middle Ages, 
it must be remembered, Prague as the old- 
est university in the Empire was the most 
renowned; it was attended at one period by 
as many as fifteen thousand youths. When 
the Germans withdrew their students to their 
own universities, that of Prague lost much pres- 
tige. It is still, however, very flourishing. 

Hradschin stands on the left bank of the 
river. On a splendid site, above the Moldau 
two hundred and fifty feet high, stands the huge 
palace. Its large wings look like a small town, 
for its rooms are said to number four or five 
hundred. Much to the regret of the people, 
the Emperor seldom comes there. Not far off 
is the large palace of the Archbishop of Prague. 
The beautiful Cathedral of St. Vitus, a splendid 
specimen of Decorated Gothic, stands in this 
quarter. It has never yet been completed, and 
even now much building and renovation is going on. 

The gorgeous altar of St. John Nepomuc, of 
solid silver, is the most costly adornment of the 

185 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

church. But more attractive to an artistic mind 
is the lovely Chapel of St. Wenceslas, containing 
the tomb of the martyred King. Its walls glitter 
with marbles and precious stones in profuse 
abundance. Large pieces of jasper and amethyst 
are set in cement which was originally gilded, 
when the effect must have been magnificent. The 
rich altar is also splendidly adorned. The large 
ring which serves as a handle to the massive door 
is the same to which the king clung when the 
assassins struck him down. It has been removed 
from the castle where his martyrdom took place. 

Behind the cathedral, as seen in the view 
from the old bridge, rise the beautiful towers of 
the old Romanesque Church of St. George. 
Originally it was a Benedictine abbey for nuns, 
founded in the ninth century. The abbess had 
the privilege of placing the crown on the head 
of the queen at the coronation ceremony. The 
old monastery and its retired garden is now set 
aside for the use of priests no longer fit to work. 
The church is undergoing an elaborate restora- 
tion at great expense. 

The steep ascent to Hradschin is beautifully 
wooded. From the height a fine view of the 
city is gained. On the lower ground near the 
river is the " Kleinseite," or " Narrow Bank," 
the aristocratic quarter. It contains many very 
fine palaces. That known as Waldstein is still 

186 



PRAGUE 

occupied by the descendants of the renowned 
General Wallenstein, of European fame. Strach- 
how, on this side of the river, a large monastery 
of White Canons founded by St. Norbert himself, 
contains a splendid library of 50,000 volumes, 
and among its choice collection of pictures is 
the priceless " Madonna " of Albert Durer. 

The fourth quarter, Smichov, contains no 
ancient buildings, being chiefly given up to 
private residences of the better classes. 

The two banks of the river are connected 
by fine bridges. The most interesting is that 
known as Carlsbr'ucke, or Charles' Bridge, from its 
builder Charles IV; it is over 1800 feet in length. 
Fine statues adorn it on either side. That of 
St. John Nepomuc, who was thrown from it to 
be martyred, is invariably saluted by passers- 
by— even by soldiers on the march. The same 
mark of respect is shown to the very fine repre- 
sentation of Calvary on the end of the bridge. 
Access is gained to this bridge from either bank 
of the river through deep archways surmounted 
by picturesque medieval towers of Decorated 
Gothic. The bridge itself has been partly re- 
built after having been swept away by floods. 
It is a striking fact that the statue of St. John 
Nepomuc was left standing, though the masonry 
up to that point had broken down. The view 
down the river from this old bridge is exceedingly 

187 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

beautiful. The islands in the stream have been 
tastefully laid out as gardens with flowers and 
shrubs. Kleinseite with its fine buildings and 
Hradschin in its lofty wooded height contribute 
to form a magnificent picture on the one hand, 
with the rushing water as a foreground; on the 
opposite bank are clustered the graceful old 
buildings of the other quarters of the city — 
varied towers and domes and spires breaking 
the sky-line. 

Prague has suffered much from frequent wars 
which have raged round it. The fanatical Hus- 
sites did their best to destroy it, and succeeded 
in ruining many of its beautiful buildings. The 
constant change of owners which it underwent 
during the troubled times of the eighteenth 
century also had their share in its partial de- 
struction. These causes combined explain the 
absence of ancient churches beyond a very few 
examples. Most of those now to be seen are 
in Renaissance style, with little beauty to rec- 
ommend them. 

We visited the famous statue of the Holy 
Child, to which such a widespread devotion 
is now evident. It is kept in the church of 
Our Lady of Victories. I was somewhat sur- 
prised to find the church closed even at four 
o'clock in the afternoon. When later on it was 
discovered to be open again and we entered 

188 



PRAUGE 

there were only four or five persons within. 
It looked as though the people of Prague were 
less devout to this little image than those of 
more distant countries. 

Much agitation is rife between the Bohemian 
and German parties in the city. The prospect 
of the eventual suppression of their national 
language — known as Czech — and the substitution 
of German, has roused the former to more than 
one hostile demonstration during the last few 
years. The lower orders have gone so far as to 
show their animosity by wrecking the houses 
and property of the hated Germans. In one 
of these riots the Abbey of Emmaus was threat- 
ened, and only escaped the fate of other institu- 
tions inhabited by German-speaking townsfolk 
on account of its indiscriminate charity. For 
the monastery feeds daily, in a special building 
in the great courtyard, hundreds of destitute 
poor. 

Much as we should have enjoyed a longer 
stay in this truly interesting city the exigencies 
of tourist arrangements forbade, and we had, 
perforce, to bid it a reluctant farewell, after a 
short but exceedingly pleasant visit. 



189 



XV 
EISENERZ— SECKAU 



191 



XV 
EISENERZ— SECKAU 

ALONG and fatiguing journey brought us 
back again from Bohemia into Upper 
Austria. It was early dawn when we found our- 
selves amid the most striking scenery we had yet 
encountered. We were rising gradually higher, for 
at Eisenerz the engine had been taken to the 
rear of the train and was slowly pushing us up- 
hill. At length we were eighteen hundred feet 
above sea-level. The scenery through which we 
passed recalled the Scottish Highlands. There 
were the deep ravines, the rushing burns and 
water-courses, the secluded glens with their clumps 
of fern on a mossy bed, with which we were so 
familiar. But another feature soon appeared, 
far grander than even the Highlands — beautiful 
as they are — can exhibit. We found ourselves 
before long in the vicinity of lofty mountains, 
surpassing anything Scottish in their gaunt, bare 
outlines and imposing bulk. We were at such a 
height by now that snow lay thick even by the 
line, and the stony peaks far above us were 

193 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

white with it, wherever it was possible for snow 
to cleave. It was a picture beautiful enough 
to make one hold one's breath with awe; for 
as the rising sun glowed with rosy warmth from 
behind those clustered pinnacles, and its beams 
filtered through the jagged crests, they tinged 
the topmost points with soft light, intensifying 
the dusky gloom which shrouded the lower 
hills. 

Creeping somewhat slowly, still higher and 
higher, we saw from the opposite side of the 
valley Erzberg — its long station glimmering with 
rows of lamps. We were to sweep round the 
head of the valley and pass it eventually; but 
its lamps had been switched off by the time we 
reached it, for progress was slow just then. 
High above it rose the banks of debris from 
the iron-ore which has made these mountains a 
source of illimitable wealth. Every day tons of 
the ore are carried over this line, which really owes 
its existence in great measure to the works which 
have been started here. Unfortunately the im- 
mense profits realized from these mountains flow 
into the coffers of Jews, the Austrian Govern- 
ment having disposed of the mines a few years 
ago for a million of pounds — a quite inadequate 
sum. The terraces of brown refuse, mounting 
one above another nearly to the top of the huge 
mountain, unrelieved by a vestige of vegetation, 

194 



EISENERZ— SECKAU 

form a striking picture; yet one can not help 
regretting the destruction of the glorious natural 
beauty of these wild mountain-ranges. 

The accompaniments to railway traveling in 
Austria differ very much from what one is ac- 
customed to at home. On this particular journey 
I remember being struck by the excessive amount 
of signals made by the various officials with 
whistles and the like. There was much tooting 
on little trumpets, which reminded one of chil- 
dren's toys, whenever we made a fresh start. It 
was odd to see a signal-man diligently waving 
flags, while all the time the universal pipe, with 
its deep bowl and long, curved wooden stem, 
was fixed firmly between his lips. The sight was 
a familiar one at small stations in Austria. 

We shifted our engine again to descend to 
a lower level, and I noticed that there were 
cog-wheels to assist in the climb to the heights 
we had but lately passed. Vordenberg was left 
behind, and Leoben, and St. Michael, and at 
length tired with changes and waitings we found 
ourselves at Knittelfeld, where our railway 
journey for that day was to cease. 

A carriage and pair conveyed us to the Bene- 
dictine Abbey of Seckau, another of the Beuron 
Houses, which was to be our shelter for a few 
days. If one had been less hungry and tired 
the drive would have been an unmitigated pleasure. 

195 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

It was a chilly air that greeted us as we began 
the gradual ascent which led to our destination; 
for Seckau stands high — some 2,000 feet above 
sea-level, and the time was late October. Higher 
still we mounted, till Knittelfeld was far below: 
yet still the road wound upward along the brink 
of a valley fringed with clumps of oak-trees. 
Loftier heights still lay beyond — some of them 
snow-capped; but we had not to scale them; 
for, as a sudden turn in the road revealed to us, 
Seckau lay lower. It formed a pretty picture 
on its green tableland, trees forming a foreground 
and the great Styrian mountains rising behind 
it. After two hours' driving we reached it at 
last, thankful to have done with traveling for 
the present. 

It was pleasant, as we drove up to the gate- 
way, to be met by a crowd of Fathers flocking 
out to bid us welcome ; for many were old friends, 
known long before in England or in Germany. 
Pleasant, too, it was to be greeted in our own 
tongue, after listening so long to the less familiar 
German; for English is by no means an unknown 
language at Seckau. 

The abbey is of large extent, and its build- 
ings exceedingly picturesque. The most prom- 
inent feature as seen from a distance is the great 
Romanesque church, with its twin western towers 
and high-pitched roof. It is perhaps the only 

196 



EISENERZ— SECKAU 

portion remaining of the original abbey erected 
in the twelfth century. The monastery buildings 
surround the church, and stand round a large 
court and a smaller quadrangle. The quaint- 
looking towers, which rear their heads at inter- 
vals, give character to the somewhat plain exterior 
buildings. The general plan of this abbey indi- 
cates that it was not built for Benedictines; 
for each religious Order has its own special re- 
quirements, and these influence the arrangements 
of the very buildings erected for it. Seckau was 
for many centuries an abbey of Canons Regular 
of St. Austin. By an arrangement similar to 
that which existed at some of our old Scottish 
cathedrals — St. Andrews and Whithorn, for example 
— the Regular Canons forming the community 
constituted the Chapter of the diocese of which 
Seckau abbey church was the cathedral. The 
See has since been removed to Gratz, though 

the Prince-Bishop still retains the title of Bishop 
of Seckau. 

The old church is a magnificent specimen of 

Romanesque architecture. It is built wholly of 

stone, toned to a rich brown hue by age. Its 

stone roof is upheld by massive round pillars 

and circular arches, and the whole building is 

eloquent of the days when men spared neither 

money nor labor to erect a worthy House of 

God. The monks have done much to beautify 

197 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

the ancient structure. The side altars are rich 
in carved and gilded statues and ornaments; 
the high altar with its glowing tints shines out 
with gem-like brilliancy from the somber back- 
ground. There are many quaint little side chapels, 
all of them adorned with paintings and statues 
of great artistic merit. Indeed all the decoration 
undertaken by the Benedictine artists in this 
splendid church is characterized by exquisite 
taste and fitness. 

Much had to be done, when the abbey came 
into the possession of its present occupants, to 
preserve it from the decay which had already 
set in. This was especially the case with the 
church. One of the towers actually fell and did 
considerable damage to some of the buildings, 
and the whole edifice needed much restoration. 
Now, as the result of much careful work, the 
whole abbey is in good preservation. 

The monastery itself is very large. It is built 
round an extensive entrance courtyard, through 
which the church is reached. A small quad- 
rangle lies between the church and some of the 
other buildings. A very extraordinary feature of 
these quadrangles is that the cloisters and upper 
corridors which give access to the various apart- 
ments are open to the air by means of large 
semicircular arches. The effect is very pictur- 
esque, but in the severe winters of that high 

198 



EISENERZ— SECKAU 

tableland the arrangement must necessarily give 
rise to some inconvenience. An approach to the 
church has been walled off from the larger court- 
yard, to secure the privacy required for the 
monastic enclosure. The peasantry have thus 
free access to the church for all the public ser- 
vices, entering the courtyard by a deep arch 
under the western wing of the buildings. There 
is still the old well in the center of the large 
space to supply the house with drinking water. 
It stands under an octagonal roof supported 
by timber uprights and covered with red tiles. 
The charm of variety attaches to this as to 
all ancient edifices. Doubtless the present build- 
ings were erected according to a definite plan in 
the first instance, but bits have been added here 
and there, and changes made at different epochs, 
till the former regularity has disappeared. The 
consequence is a combination of various buildings 
on different levels, connected by frequent stair- 
cases and odd, straggling passages. It was some- 
what of a feat to find one's way about, and up 
to the last day of our visit I was only dimly 
conscious of the whereabouts of certain rooms. 

The great extent of garden ground surround- 
ing the monastery is not the least of the charms 
of this beautiful spot. There is the large garden 
of the former Provost of the Canons, with its 
pleasant paths shaded by old apple trees, the 

199 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

still larger one devoted to the recreation of the 
Canons, and various other little plots in odd 
corners, and from all of them is gained a won- 
drous view of snow-clad mountain or wooded 
hill, or of the little houses of Seckau hiding 
themselves in embowering fruit trees. 

It was after we had bade a reluctant farewell 
to the abbey and its inmates, and had set forth 
on our journey once more, that an amusing 
incident befell us. My companion took the 
opportunity of a change of trains at some station 
of rather more importance to despatch a neces- 
sary telegram, while I superintended the con- 
veyance of our bags to their new destination by 
a porter. Either the telegraph clerk was unusually 
slow, or the conductor of the train in an unnec- 
essary hurry ; whichever it was, the train in which 
our baggage was deposited began to move slowly 
off — after the usual blowing of trumpets and 
sounding of whistles by several officials success- 
ively — just as my friend appeared on the scene. 
With much gesture and excited protest the 
officials forbade him to attempt to mount. I, 
however, seizing the opportunity, clambered up 
to the carriage where our belongings were stowed 
on the racks, and was carried off alone. The 
accident really affected us little, for we met again 
in the course of an hour. What occurred in the 
meantime, however, was very funny. 

200 



EISENERZ— SECKAU 

The guard, who was exceedingly kind and 
sympathetic with me about the mishap, when he 
found me somewhat slow in explaining myself in 
German, asked my nationality. I told him I was 
English. Whereupon, at the next stopping place, 
a little country station, an English-speaking 
official was produced to converse with me in 
my own tongue — by way of putting me at ease, 
perhaps, for there was absolutely no need of his 
assistance. He was a youth of eighteen or 
nineteen, probably, and seemed to be in the 
telegraph department. " This is the gentleman," 
cried two or three official voices, as their owners 
pointed me out, and an admiring ring closed 
round the young man to hear the English con- 
versation — they were evidently rather proud of 
their townsman's linguistic attainment. 

The youth began with " Good evening, sir." 
" Oh, you speak English?" I said encouragingly. 
" Yes," replied the youth. Some official in a 
scarlet cap had just communicated to me the 
contents of a telegram from my friend arrang- 
ing for our meeting. I had nothing of conse- 
quence to talk about to this would-be interpreter, 
so, by way of saying something, I remarked, 
" My friend, who was left behind at the last 
station, is coming on by the next train, I believe." 
" Yes," replied the interpreter. " Then I need 
not go back to him," I said; there had been 

201 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

question of it at one time. " Yes," answered the 
interpreter as before. " But," I said, " the gentle- 
man in the red hat" — he was one out of the various 
grades of railway officials, and his title I knew 
not, for the life of me — " has told me that I am 
to go on and my friend will follow." He looked 
puzzled, so I repeated, " The gentleman in the 
red hat — der Herr Ober stations-inspector " — it was 
a random shot. " Ah, yes," cried the interpreter 
in mingled German and English, " the gentleman 
in the red hat, I understand! " I had visions of 
German phrase-books, containing, what I had 
always thought to be pieces of useless informa- 
tion, such as " My aunt has a blue cloak; your 
cousin has a red hat," etc. Evidently he had 
studied such, and here was a case in which they 
were of some service. But, unfortunately, be- 
yond the red hat, we got no further. In spite 
of my slowly and distinctly repeated phrase, 
the interpreter could only scratch his head with 
a puzzled look and retire from his position of 
proud publicity shaking his head and muttering 
the crest-fallen ejaculation, " Ich verstehe cs nicht" 
— " I can't understand." I fell back into my seat 
as the train glided off, and indulged in the grate- 
ful relief of the laughter which the scene pro- 
voked. It was a source of merriment till my 
friend rejoined me and for long after. 



202 



XVI 
GRIES 



203 



XVI 



GRIES 



OUR first halt after leaving Seckau was at 
the quaint little town of Klagenfurt, where 
we spent the night. Our journey on the fol- 
lowing day was to be long, so an early start 
was necessary, and, as it happened, rain, which 
had been pouring down all night, had settled 
into a steady drizzle when we slowly moved 
out of the station. Nothing could be seen from 
the windows but an atmosphere gray with mist. 
A large lake, reputed very beautiful, which 
extends for some miles by the side of the line, 
and which is known as the "Worthersee," was 
almost hidden; only an occasional watery gleam 
through the mist announcing its presence. Thus 
we sped along for an hour or two. 

After the busy station at Villach had been 
passed, the atmosphere cleared somewhat, and 
before long we gained glimpses of really charm- 
ing scenery. In the neighborhood of Lienz we 
came upon beautiful wooded heights, the dark 
green of the pines being relieved by many larch 

205 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

trees in an autumn dress of bright saffron yellow. 
Bare crags, too, shot up at intervals from the 
foliage in picturesque fashion. 

It would be difficult to find a railway with 
more curves and twists than that upon which we 
were traveling. In consequence, the train, which 
was a quick one, rocked in the most alarming 
way at times. We dashed on, past roadside 
stations, where weather-beaten-looking women, 
in broad straw hats or with head-kerchiefs, waved 
signals like targets as we flew along. We passed 
wooded heights rising abruptly from the plain, 
bearing on their summit little castles, or groups 
of houses with a church or two among them. 
Bridges with the statue of St. John Nepomuc; 
young men and old, halting their bullock wagon 
on a country road, as with hat in hand they 
devoutly said their mid- day " Angelus " in re- 
sponse to the faint tone of some distant bell; 
the numerous churches dotted over the landscape ; 
the many wayside shrines — all told us that we 
were again in Catholic Tyrol. 

We passed Brixen, the seat of a Bishop and a 
well-known Catholic center. Before long came 
lofty crags and an almost Swiss style of scenery, 
and soon we halted at the station at Botzen — 
the ancient Pons Drusi of the Romans. We were 
all amid mountains here, for this part of South 
Tyrol is renowned for its marble; porphyry of 

206 



GRIES 

the ruddiest and marble of the whitest are quar- 
ried near Botzen. 

The quaint old town — medieval in type — was 
swarming with cows, sheep, and pigs; for it was 
Saturday, and evidently market-day. Our desti- 
nation was Gries, a suburb of Botzen, and as we 
preferred walking thither, after our railway 
shaking, we valiantly plunged through many 
inches of liquid mud. To add to our discomfort, 
rain began to fall again and continued all day. 
People whom we asked to direct us towards 
Gries were either ignorant of the way and too 
proud to own it, or wanted to play us a prac- 
tical joke ; for we started in quite a wrong direction, 
and only when a good Samaritan offered to 
accompany us to a point whence progress was 
easy did we strike upon a correct route. 

The preconceived notions I had formed of this 
monastery proved utterly deluded. I had ex- 
pected—though why, I know not — to find it 
in quite rural surroundings, and on a hill; indeed, 
a strikingly picturesque erection mounted on a 
crag just before we reached the station was 
fixed upon as the identical place. The real 
Abbey of Gries, however, is far differently sit- 
uated. It is in a town, and overshadowed by 
hills, rather than perched upon one, and though 
it really possesses extensive vineyards and gar- 
dens they are not evident at first sight. 

207 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

We were, it is scarcely necessary to say, 
most hospitably welcomed, for Gries belongs to 
the Swiss Congregation of Benedictines, whose 
charity to guests knows no bounds. 

The original site of the abbey was at Muri, 
in the diocese of Basle, where the monastery of 
St. Martin was founded in the eleventh century, 
and, in spite of various calamities which befell 
it during the ages that followed, it was flourish- 
ing there up to the early part of the nineteenth 
century. At length in 1841 the monastery was 
suppressed by the Protestant Government, its 
goods seized, and the monks turned out by 
force in the depth of winter to seek a friendly 
asylum in other Religious Houses. 

The monastery of the Austin Canons at Gries 
was at that time standing vacant, and was offered 
by the Emperor Ferdinand I of Austria to the 
exiled Community of Muri. The Abbot, Dom 
Adalbert Regli, the forty-sixth in the catalogue 
of superiors, gladly accepted the Emperor's gen- 
erous gift. Gries was constituted a priory de- 
pending upon the ancient abbey, and thus it 
continued in union with the Swiss Congregation, 
though actually situated in Austrian Tyrol. 

The monastery is of considerable size. Por- 
tions of it are very ancient; a massive tower, 
for example, dates from the time of Drusus 
(B.C. 8); but has been much modernized. One 

208 




The Market-Place, Gries— Exterior op the Abbey 
at the Right. 




View of Botzen from Grifs. 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

very well rendered. All the Proprium was sung; 
some of it being in Gregorian, some of it — for 
example a very fine Offertorium — in elaborate 
figured music. It was impossible to help con- 
trasting this careful fulfilment of rubrical direc- 
tions with the somewhat slipshod ways of some 
larger and more important choirs in our own 
country, where the selection of incidental music 
befitting the authorized formulas seems to be the 
last thing to be considered. 

It is unusual to find a monastery situated in 
a town, as this is, possessed of so large an extent 
of garden- ground. The greater part of it is 
devoted to the growth of the vine, which is the 
chief object of cultivation all over the district. 
The vines are trained in a fashion quite unlike 
that generally followed in Germany and Austria. 
Instead of the straight, upright poles, like those 
used for hops in England, trellis roofs, placed 
slantwise on supporting posts, are covered with 
luxuriant foliage and luscious fruit. Conse- 
quently, one walks through the vines by grassy 
paths shaded by a succession of arbors. All 
the wine needed for use in the abbey is supplied 
by this monastic vineyard. 

Botzen-Gries is only twenty miles or so from 
the Italian frontier; the air is therefore so mild 
that oranges and lemons ripen in the open. In 
the abbey garden we found large trees of both, 

210 



GRIES 

bearing at the same time flower and fruit — the 
latter in every stage of ripening. We were told 
though, that the large glass-houses, whose walls 
alone surrounded these delicate southern trees 
during summer, are usually covered in, for pre- 
caution against the lower temperature, during 
the winter months. The scent of lemon-bloom 
— by the way — is almost the same as that of the 
more familiar orange blossom. 

The monastery stands no more than seven 
hundred feet above the sea, but it is surrounded 
by mountains of great altitude. On the Sunday 
evening we spent there we were able to make a 
partial ascent of one of these. We had viewed 
the landscape generally from the roof of the 
abbey, where there is a great gravelled terrace 
running between two buildings, whence one gains 
glimpses of the lovely panorama spread out on 
all sides. The weather, however, had been misty, 
and the view consequently defective. But on 
Sunday evening the mist had lifted, and moun- 
tain and plain shone in the glory of a beautiful 
sunset. 

We set out from the abbey towards the end 
of the afternoon, and passed through the little 
churchyard lying round the parish church of 
Gries. All Souls' Day was only just past, and 
consequently there had been great numbers at 
the Sacraments; in the monastic church alone 

211 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

eight hundred had been to confession on that 
day and the previous evening. 

Everything in the graveyard spoke of that 
day of the dead. The place had been put into 
perfect order; gravel walks were neat and trim; 
graves had been smoothly mown. The whole 
enclosure looked like a beautiful garden. Large 
pots of flowering chrysanthemums in fullest bloom 
— white, pale yellow, faintest pink — had been 
sunk into the soil between the graves. Wreaths 
of flowers and evergreens decked the headstones 
and crosses. Some of the mounds bore shaded 
lamps, their light scarcely visible in the bright 
glare of the afternoon; others were decked with 
cross and candles, like some miniature altar. 
All spoke of true Catholic feeling for the 
dead. 

The church itself proved to be well worth a 
visit. It had been recently restored, as its artistic 
exterior roof, brilliant with glazed tiles in green, 
yellow, and white, and many other tokens testi- 
fied. The altar, of Renaissance style, is adorned 
with very beautiful marbles. A chapel on the 
south side contains some magnificent old six- 
teenth century groups of figures in bas-relief, 
colored and gilded. One represents the blessed 
Trinity crowning Our Lady, the Father and 
Son being exactly similar figures, and the Holy 
Ghost under the form of a dove. Another por- 

212 



GRIES 

trays the death of Our Lady surrounded by the 
Apostles. There are some beautiful old paint- 
ings also. The church, so well ordered and 
tastefully adorned, pleased me very much. 

Leaving the churchyard, we gained a narrow 
foot-way which led towards the great mountain 
towering above us with cliff-like bulk. It has 
been skilfully transformed into a public pleasure 
ground. Cleverly cut paths wind along the face 
of the mountain, giving place here and there 
to flights of white marble steps in the steeper 
ascents. All the route is planted with trees, 
flowers, and shrubs. Bushes, covered with bright 
chrysanthemum blooms, border the path; be- 
hind them are aloes, palms, olives, and almond 
trees — all of them fresh in foliage though it is 
November; for in this favored clime there is 
little winter to speak of, and frost and snow are 
almost unknown except in the mountain heights 
beyond. 

The splendidly engineered path led us on- 
ward and upward with but little expenditure of 
energy, yet, so balmy and mild the air, that even 
the little exertion needed heated one consider- 
ably. At a pretty good height a fine hotel has 
been built on a broad terrace, and lovely views 
can be gained from its windows. Still higher, 
one comes upon " Archduke Henry's Promenade," 
where Sunday pleasure-seekers are much in evi- 

213 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

dence, seated upon the benches or pacing up and 
down the well-kept walks. Young officers in 
smart uniforms and civilians of both sexes formed 
the crowd. Mounting still higher, one finds the 
path bridging deep defiles, or clinging to the 
shoulder of some mighty rock, yet always smooth 
and well graveled beneath one's feet and safe 
walking, on account of its sturdy iron railing 
towards the outer side. 

The view hence, about half-way up the moun- 
tain, was indescribably beautiful. On the other 
side of the valley rose mountains nearly 5,000 
feet high; beyond them were others, higher 
still, shining in the setting sun in rosy hues, 
7,000 feet above the sea. In the plain, far below, 
lay Botzen with its many spires; nearer to us 
was Gries, the river dividing the two townships. 
All the space between the houses seemed to be 
green with trellised vines; no other kind of 
culture was to be seen. 

We had been quietly climbing for an hour or 
more and, as we gazed upon the lovely view, twi- 
light fell, almost without warning, and the air grew 
perceptibly chill. Simultaneously the church 
bells began to ring out their summons to Bene- 
diction of the Blessed Sacrament, as we turned 
and wended our way home in the dusk. The 
lamps on the graves in the distance shone out 
like big glowworms, and when we reached the 

214 



GRIES 

churchyard, flowers, candles, and lamps together 
made quite a festive scene. 

Gries was our last stopping-place on this side 
of the Italian frontier. At an early hour on a 
wet November morning we left the hospitable 
monastery, and started from Botzen station for 
the sunny South. 



215 



XVII 
INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 



217 



XVII 
INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

THE scenery as we sped on from Botzen 
towards the Italian frontier was full of 
wild beauty; for the Trentino, or Italian Tyrol, 
is famed for its lovely valleys and picturesque 
mountains, and one of the finest of these valleys 
is that of the Adige, through which we were 
traveling; it is known to the Germans as the 
" Etschthal," for it is traversed by the river 
which has given it its name. Trento, in whose 
Church of Santa Maria Maggiore the famous 
Council of Trent was held in 1545, is enclosed 
within massive walls, which prevent a thorough 
view of the city from the railway. The rocks 
in the vicinity shone with bright lichens — purpLe 
and yellow. A brilliant, crimson-hued creeping 
plant, growing everywhere, added to the gor- 
geous coloring. Dotted about among the lower 
hills, and clustered on the plains, were many 
typical Tyrolese dwellings. The store of maize 
which invariably hung under the projecting roof 
of each gable, had mellowed in tone to a rich 

219 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

terra-cotta red. It gave one the impression, 
seen as it was from a distance, of a coat of bright- 
colored paint, and suggested the idea that all 
the district had clubbed together for the pur- 
chase of a good stock of the said paint for decora- 
tive purposes at a reduction in price! 

South of Trento everything gradually became 
Italian. In all the stations that language, as 
well as German, was used to designate waiting- 
rooms, ticket offices, and the like, and the German 
and Italian titles of the town stood side by side 
on the wall of each station building. Travelers 
joined us, too, who carried on their conversa- 
tion in Italian, and everything told that we were 
nearing the frontier of a new country, differing 
entirely in race, language, and customs from 
those in which we had spent the previous six 
weeks. 

At Ala came the Custom House, and we were 
all turned out, bag and baggage, to undergo, 
after all, but a mere formal scrutiny. The 
uniform of the officers of the Italian Customs 
is striking on account of the unique headcovering 
allotted to them. This is like an English police- 
man's felt helmet, bound round with a striped 
band of red and yellow, from which, on one 
side, rises erect a long, black eagle's feather. 

One felt oneself, the scrutiny over, at last a 
denizen of Italy, with everything German (and 

220 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

under that title may be included all the races 
we had lately visited) left far behind. The 
thought bred a kind of satisfaction; for looking 
back I was reminded of some few disagreeables 
which had marred an otherwise thoroughly en- 
joyable time. There were chiefly three of such 
evils calculated to produce irritation, in a greater 
or less degree — beds, stoves, and cooking. 

The German bed has been already too often 
satirized to need much description here. Its 
peculiarities are (1) an absence of blankets, (2) 
a tendency to allow the feet of the occupant to 
stray into the cold night air, from the absolute 
freedom of anything like " tucking-in," (3) the 
presence of an enormous down pillow known as 
" die Federdecke " which covers the whole bed in 
lieu of blankets and renders any mitigation of tem- 
perature impossible. All that one can do with such 
a couch is promptly to kick the " Federdecke " 
into the nearest corner, tuck himself in with his 
traveling rug, and make the best of it. He has 
the choice between melting and freezing and 
must endeavor to steer clear of extremes. Stoves 
are not so satisfactorily dealt with. October 
brings cold nights, and the huge Ofen in one's 
bedroom radiated a heat like that of an unusually 
hot conservatory. One had either to sleep with 
open windows and risk a cold in the head, or 
choose the alternative of possible asphyxiation 

221 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

from the intolerable atmosphere of the over- 
heated room. 

Cooking, I place last; it is the least of the 
three evils, and indeed to a certain extent is no 
evil at all, but a decided improvement upon 
our ordinary cuisine. The meals are always 
well cooked and well served in Germany, Austria, 
and Tyrol, and the food is generally all that can 
be desired. But there are certain combinations 
which scarcely commend themselves to the visi- 
tor's palate. Boiled beef accompanied by stewed 
pears or cherries or even strawberry jam may 
pass muster; \n'6dels, or bacon dumplings, with 
sauerkraut may even commend themselves to a 
few; but I doubt whether any Englishman or 
American could calmly face stock-fish served 
with stewed plums — it is too much to expect 
of us. 

After all, such ills are but trifles when set by 
the side of the hundred sources of healthy enjoy- 
ment and engrossing interest afforded by such 
a sojourn — not in the ordinary hotels or recognized 
odging-houses, but in the privacy of the family 
*and the seclusion of the monastery. 

Verona was our next change, and here we fell 
in for the first time with typical Italian fellow- 
travelers. There were two distinct parties: an 
old lady and her elderly son, and a young mar- 
ried couple accompanied by a little girl. They 

222 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

did not long remain strangers, for the females 
soon fell into an animated conversation which 
seemed to turn chiefly on the various ailments 
in the members of their respective families. 
The gestures of sympathy and consolation— 
the clasping of hands and uplifting of eyes on 
the part of the old woman, as she counseled 
trust in the Madonna, and the equally dramatic 
poses of the younger, who seemed inclined to 
gloat over her miseries — were worthy of an artist. 
By degrees the whole party became bosom friends. 
Hats and bonnets were discarded by the female 
portion, and becoming mantillas of lace assumed 
in their stead, while large ; round, rush-covered 
flasks of red wine, and little baskets stored with 
rolls and Bologna sausages, circulated freely 
during the remainder of their journey. 

The sun, when it deigned to shine, was hot, 
but the sky did not altogether satisfy our pre- 
conceived ideas of what an Italian sky should 
be ; instead of a fathomless blue, free from clouds, 
its pervading tone was a watery gray, too much 
like that which generally prevails in our north- 
ern climes. 

It was somewhat disappointing to have to 
pass Padua, as we had passed Verona, without 
setting foot outside the station; but time was 
pressing and our destination was Venice. At 
length Mestre was reached — the last station on 

223 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

the mainland. As the train moved on we seemed 
to be rushing out into the ocean, for on either 
side was water. We were traversing the wonder- 
ful railway bridge of more than two hundred 
arches, by which Venice is connected with the 
continent. In a short time we glided into the 
station. 

We easily ran the gauntlet of animated tout- 
ing by the representatives of various rival hotels, 
for we had already chosen our abode, and signi- 
fied the fact by promptly calling for the man 
belonging to the hotel in question. This silenced 
the clamor in our regard, but drew forth a sotto 
voce remark from one impudent fellow as I passed 
him, that his particular establishment was the 
only one worthy of un monaco — his quick eye 
had spied the Benedictine habit and had prompted 
his ready tongue. 

Seated in a gondola, with our luggage piled 
in the bow, we floated slowly along the Grand 
Canal — a splendid water-way, 180 feet wide and 
bordered with magnificent buildings. Our gon- 
dolier, standing on the raised platform at the stern, 
cleverly propelled us with his single oar, and from 
time to time, as we slowly advanced, shouted 
out the title of some particular church or palace 
or object of interest when we passed it. Just 
before we came to the Rialto — the beautiful 
white marble bridge which, with its one wide 

224 




Cathedral, Ferkara. 




The Castle, Fkrrara. 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

arch, spans the canal — we turned off into a 
narrower water-way. Our guide managed his 
barque with much dexterity, shooting under 
bridges and between other gondolas and barges, 
gliding round corners, darting down one short 
cut after another, till in something less than an 
hour he landed us at our hotel, which faced the 
Canale di San Marco, only a few minutes' walk 
from the famous Cathedral itself. 

It would be impossible in a page or two to 
give anything like an adequate description of 
San Marco. Ruskin, in his poetic prose, ex- 
hausts every enthusiastic epithet in a glowing 
word-picture of its exterior. " The great square," 
he says, " seems to have opened from it in a kind 
of awe, that we may see it far away." And 
then follows a wonderful description, in which 
the great master speaks of the glorious building 
as "a multitude of pillars and white domes, 
clustered into a long, low pyramid of colored 
light; a treasure-heap . . . partly of gold and 
partly of opal and mother-of-pearl, hollowed 
beneath into fine, great, vaulted porches, ceiled 
with fair mosaic, and beset with sculpture of 
alabaster, clear as amber and delicate as ivory 
. . . and round the walls of the porches there 
are set pillars of variegated stones, jasper, and 
porphyry and deep green serpentine, spotted 
with flakes of snow . . . and above them all, 

225 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

in the broad archivolt, a continuous chain of 
language and life — angels and the signs of Heaven 
and the labors of men, each in its appointed 
season upon the earth; and above these another 
range of glittering pinnacles mixed with arches 
edged with scarlet flowers — a confusion of de- 
light, amidst which the breasts of the Greek 
horses are seen blazing in their breadth of golden 
strength . . . until at last . . . the crests of the 
arches break into a marble foam, and toss them- 
selves into the blue sky in flashes and wreaths 
of sculptured spray." 

They are the words of a poet who has gazed 
his fill at the beautiful vision and has taken in 
every detail of its loveliness and they are by no 
means exaggerated. There is the glamour of the 
East about San Marco with its domes and rich 
coloring and gold and precious marbles such as 
attaches to no other Western temple. The 
" Greek horses," in Ruskin's description, are four 
magnificent figures in gilded bronze, which sur- 
mount the lower central arch of the facade (they 
are scarcely distinguishable in the illustration); 
they are said to have once adorned Trajan's 
Arch in the Forum at Rome, and to have been 
removed to Constantinople and thence to Venice. 
Napoleon carried them off to Paris in 1797, but 
they were recovered in the general peace which 
followed his downfall. 

226 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

The three great masts which stand in front 
of San Marco were erected in the sixteenth cen- 
tury to bear the banners of the tributary States 
of Cyprus, Crete, and Morea. 

One gained a comprehensive view, not only 
of the great church beneath but of the whole 
city, from the open windows just under the 
pointed roof of the great brick Campanile, stand- 
ing detached from St. Mark's at the junction of 
the Piazza with the Piazzetta. The tower was 
easily ascended by a series of inclined planes, 
running, instead of steps, round the four walls. 
It is said that Napoleon rode to the top on horse- 
back, and it is quite within the bounds of credi- 
bility. From the summit one looked down on 
the Piazza di S. Marco, a fine space measuring 
250 ft. by 100 ft., lying immediately in front 
of the great church. Further on, the eye took 
in as in a panorama the whole of the wonderful 
city, with its intersecting canals spanned by more 
than three hundred bridges. In the other direc- 
tion were smaller islands and the sea. 

That slender, graceful tower, rising to a height 
of more than 300 feet, was visible from every 
part of the city and from far off at sea. Brown- 
ing speaks of it as discernible from Asolo, thirty 
miles away: 

Ah, the clear morning! I can see St. Mark's; 
That black streak is the belfry. 

227 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

The original tower has been replaced by a 
modern erection; for that noble Campanile, 
as all the world knows, suddenly collapsed into 
itself and sank to a white pyramid of ruins. Its 
loss was deservedly bewailed as a national cal- 
amity; for in its finished state it had stood since 
1489, and its beginnings date as far back as six 
centuries earlier. To have seen it and climbed 
its height is now a memory more than ever pre- 
cious. 

The Piazza di S. Marco is the favorite prom- 
enade of Venice. Here, in the sunny afternoon 
air, crowds of pleasure-seekers — mostly foreign 
visitors — lounge under the arcades and regale 
themselves with ices, or pace the marble pave- 
ment as the band in the center of the square 
pours out a flood of music and the hundreds 
of St. Mark's pigeons flutter about their feet or 
feed from the hand of any one who chooses to 
invite them. 

These pigeons, by the bye, maintained at the 
public cost, are the descendants of carrier pigeons 
used during the siege of Crete, in the thirteenth 
century, to bring messages to the seat of Govern- 
ment. They find a lodging on the roof of the 
Cathedral. St. Mark's is entered by a vesti- 
bule rich in marbles and mosaics of Old Testament 
history. Three metal doors lead into the church; 
one of them came from St. Sophia at Constanti- 

228 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

nople, and near it are columns said to have be- 
longed to the Temple of Jerusalem. 

For a picture of the interior we will take 
Ruskin's words once more. " There opens be- 
fore us," he says, " a vast cave hewn out into 
the form of a cross, and divided by many pillars 
into shadowy aisles. Round the domes of its 
roof the light enters only through narrow aper- 
tures like large stars, and here and there a ray 
or two from some far away casement wanders 
into the darkness, and casts a narrow, phosphoric 
stream upon the waves of marble that heave 
and fall in a thousand colors upon the floor . . . 
Underfoot and overhead is a continual succession 
of crowded imagery, one picture passing into 
another as in a dream. . . . The passions and 
the pleasures of human life symbolized together 
and the mystery of its redemption. . . . The 
cross, lifted and carved in every place and upon 
every stone." The description of the pavement 
as heaving " waves of marble," is suggested by 
its time-worn unevenness, which is a marked 
feature. 

The wonderful mosaics, the unique marbles 
of this gorgeous temple, surpass imagination. 
They are all objects of art, each with its own 
proper history. The magnificent screen which 
closes in the choir bears exquisite marble statues 
of Our Lady, St. Mark, and the Twelve Apostles. 

229 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

The high altar, beyond, is one of the richest in 
the world. It enshrines the body of the Evan- 
gelist. The altar-piece, formed of plates of gold 
set with brilliants and precious stones and adorned 
with pictures in enamel, is but rarely uncovered, 
and that on special occasions only. 

The richness and glory of this wonderful 
church surpass description, nor can its " dim 
religious light," blending all its marvels of color 
and gilding into tones of subdued harmony, be 
adequately conceived. " The roof," says Ruskin, 
" sheathed with gold, and the polished walls 
covered with rich alabaster, give back at every 
curve and angle some feeble gleaming to the 
flames " of the ever-burning lamps which fitfully 
illumine the many altars. Besides the few win- 
dows these are the only sources of light. The 
effect is one of mystic beauty and charm. 

The fascination possessed by Venice lies in 
its absolute dissimilarity to every other Western 
capital. Its position on about seventy little 
islands gives it the appearance of a city rising 
sheer out of the Adriatic. Its domes and spires 
and palaces seem to float on the surface of the 
sea; their delicate coloring — soft gray, creamy 
white, and terra-cotta red — helps to accentuate 
the impression of unreality, inseparable from 
such conditions. One half expects to see the 
daintily tinted picture fade away or sink into 

230 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

the waste of waters. Then again the position 
of the city renders locomotion impossible by any 
other means than by boat or, for shorter dis- 
tances, on foot. " In this city," says a modern 
writer, " the horse is a quaint and unexpected 
animal. He is not wanted. He is quite as 
ridiculous and useless as a unicorn would be 
in the streets of London." The fact adds to 
the fairy-like character of the city ; for the usual 
noises of towns — the tramping of horses, rolling 
of carts, and the like are conspicuous by their 
absence. Indeed the steps with which the bridges 
are almost invariably constructed preclude the 
possibility of that kind of traffic. I have seen 
pictures of Venice in which a donkey is rep- 
resented; but the animal may be a creation 
of the artist's fancy. I saw no animal larger 
than a dog. In your gondola you float silently 
along on the surface of the blue water, under 
a cloudless sky, surrounded by dreamlike build- 
ings of picturesque beauty. Or if you prefer 
to walk, you make your way along the broad 
marble pavement of the Riva degli Schiavoni 
or the Piazzetta S. Marco, and feast your eyes 
on the lovely vision on the far-off island whence 
the domes of S. Giorgio and its graceful red 
and white campanile rise from the blue waters 
of the lagoon; or you pace the broad pave- 
ment near the Rialto and watch the many 

231 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

gondolas which flit silently along the Grand Canal 
— the Piccadilly or Pall Mall of Venice. 

The actual streets are, as a rule, narrow and 
unattractive. Even the Merceria — the Bond 
Street of the city — is no more than twenty feet 
across in its widest part. Besides the noble 
square in front of St. Mark's there is a smaller 
one opening out from it towards the sea, known as 
the "Piazzetta." On one side of it is the Doge's 
Palace, on the other the Public Library, a hand- 
some building with granite pillars. Two tall 
pillars stand near the landing place; one bears 
a bronze figure of the winged lion of St. Mark, 
the other that of St. Theodore, the former patron 
of Venice, standing upon a crocodile. This saint 
was one of the most popular martyrs in the Greek 
Church and suffered in the fourth century. The 
crocodile is intended to represent the dragon 
which is always portrayed under the feet of St. 
Theodore as of St. George; it is a type of sin 
and unbelief conquered by the saint's faith. 
St. Mark has in later ages superseded the less 
illustrious saint as patron of Venice. 

A few other small squares are to be found in 
the city; they are generally in front of certain of 
the churches and public buildings. One of these 
is the Campo S. Paolo. But, in reality, the water- 
ways constitute the streets and open spaces of 
this city of waters. 

232 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

There are many other churches of great 
interest besides St. Mark's. Perhaps the most 
striking of these is the beautiful Gothic building 
known as SS. Giovanni e Paolo. It is the West- 
minster Abbey of Venice. Within are numerous 
costly and splendid monuments to celebrated 
men; some of these are more than usually fine. 
In the little square before the church stands 
the magnificent bronze statue of Bartolommeo 
Coleoni, a celebrated Venetian warrior. It is by 
Verrocchio, a famous Florentine sculptor of the 
fifteenth century, and is considered one of the 
finest works of the kind extant. 

S. Giorgio Maggiore, on its distant island, is 
served by the Mechitarite Benedictines, but 
very few Fathers are there now. It contains 
several remarkable paintings by Tintoretto. The 
choir stalls are very beautifully carved and the 
marble facade and fine cupola are worthy of 
notice. This church is in the Renaissance style 
of architecture. 

Sta. Maria della Salute is another fine build- 
ing of the same period. Its exterior is striking, 
composed as it is wholly of marble. The interior, 
though rich, is not particularly beautiful. It 
stands near the Grand Canal and forms a charm- 
ing picture from the Riva degli Schiavoni, on the 
opposite shore. 

The Church of the Frari is a splendid Gothic 

233 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

building of the thirteenth century. It contains 
many remarkable tombs, among them those of 
Titian and Canova. Near the latter is a cele- 
brated Madonna by Titian, painted for the 
Pesaro family, whose members are represented 
in it. The cloisters attached to the church are 
very beautiful. 

The finest of all non-ecclesiastical buildings 
in Venice is the Palazzo Ducale, formerly the 
residence of the Doges. It adjoins St. Mark's 
and runs down one side of the Piazzetta, another 
wing facing the sea. The lower story is sur- 
sounded by great, open cloisters with round 
pillars of pale red marble, with carved capitals 
in white. Above these run open Gothic gal- 
leries of the same material and of great beauty of 
design. The upper part of the walls is constructed 
in white and red marble arranged in lozenge 
pattern. The red has all faded to a faint rose 
color and the white has mellowed to a creamy 
tint, and the effect is one of striking beauty 
which must be seen to be realized. 

A narrow canal separates the Ducal Palace 
from the Prison on the side facing the sea, and 
the two buildings are connected by the famous 
covered passage which runs high up between 
them known as the " Bridge of Sighs," through 
which the condemned used to be led to their 
doom. The famous bridge is not a really hand- 

234 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

some erection, dating as it does from the middle 
of the sixteenth century only. In general aspect 
it reminds one — but for the white marble of 
which it is composed — of what Temple Bar used 
to be. It is noteworthy, in this connection, 
that Ruskin calls the canal which flows beneath 
it " one of the principal thoroughfares of the 
city": so that the resemblance lies in some- 
thing beyond mere outward form. 

If it had not rained in Venice, I should have 
carried away nothing but pleasant and poetical 
reminiscences, but unfortunately my start — made 
with all reluctance — was in the early morning 
and that morning was very wet. It takes away 
much of the poetry to sit for more than half an 
hour in a gondola while the rain streams steadily 
down, and the gondolier stirs up the inodorous 
waters of narrow canals and rouses one's nervous 
apprehensions by the weirdness of his hoarse, 
goat-like call at the corners, as well as by the 
fear of possible collisions, as the gondola gropes 
its way under frequent bridges and through 
rows of obstructing barges in the dim light of 
a November morning, while all the rest of the 
world sleeps. Still, in spite of every draw- 
back, Venice is a place to look back upon with 
fascinated recollection. I have heard of a trav- 
eler who visited it, meaning to stay a week or 
two only, and he tarried there for forty years. 

235 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

I can well believe it; for Venice throws a spell 
over one such as no other place — Rome alone 
excepted — has power to do. 

The next Italian city which I have to describe 
is Ferrara. It is not a place which calls for a 
special visit from most travelers, though ex- 
tremely interesting in its way. Circumstances 
arose during our progress which led to my passing 
a night there, in order to meet my companion 
again on his return from a day's visit to a friend 
residing in the neighborhood, that thus we might 
resume our interrupted journey together. 

Ferrara has stamped itself upon my recollec- 
tion as the most curious jumble of decayed mag- 
nificence and squalid modernity it has ever been 
my lot to witness. Palaces, resplendent with 
marble pillars (somewhat chipped it is true), 
lovely Romanesque arcading down the length 
of a street, stuccoed houses of the most vulgar 
type, tumble-down cottages, shops with plate- 
glass fronts, were all mixed up in the most pictur- 
esque confusion possible. My room, in the hotel 
which I patronized, looked out into the court- 
yard of a palace; but the floods of water inces- 
santly streaming from a broken water- spout 
on the palace roof kept me awake half the night. 
The same incongruity appeared in the internal 
arrangements of the hotel itself. White marble 
stairs led to gloomy, brick-paved corridors and 

236 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

red-tiled rooms devoid of gas, and lighted by a 
solitary candle, while down below, the dining 
saloon was brilliant with electric light. 

The fact is, Ferrara is a city of departed glories. 
In the middle ages it was the nourishing capital 
of the House of Este and a scene of much mag- 
nificence, the home of Italian culture and pagan 
learning, and the frequent resort of popes, 
emperors, and princes. In those days it boasted 
of 100,000 inhabitants; now it can reckon barely 
a third of that number. Beyond the fact of 
possessing a university, it is still more inter- 
esting than many of the cities of northern Italy 
as constituting, before the spoliation of the 
Church by the present Government, the most 
northerly of the Pope's dominions. The Duchy 
of Ferrara, of which the city formed the capital, 
was governed by a Cardinal-Legate, and the 
grand old medieval fortress, still known as "II 
Castello," with its towers and battlements and 
moated walls, was his official residence; to this 
day it forms one of the most picturesque buildings 
in the ancient city. 

I peeped into many churches, but found none 
of them very interesting; all, except the Cathe- 
dral (to which I shall refer later), were of ultra 
Renaissance style of architecture. One of the 
first which attracted my attention had evidently 
not yet assumed the marble facade which had 

237 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

formed part of the original design. It presented 
a rugged face of dingy brown brick, plentifully 
perforated with holes to afford grip to the more 
elaborate front, destined some day to adorn it. 
The effect produced was that of a large and very 
carelessly built dovecot. 

S. Carlo, a curious, little, short, squat build- 
ing standing not far from the Castello, presented 
no feature of special interest. The Dominican 
church, a handsome classical structure, impressed 
me as the finest of all, after the Cathedral. It 
had some good paintings, but stucco was much 
in evidence. Fifteen lamps burned before the 
Blessed Sacrament chapel, in honor of the Mys- 
teries of the Rosary, and a box hard by invited 
subscriptions to the fund for keeping them up. 

There was a fair in progress on the day of 
my visit; oxen and sheep, together with vege- 
table and fruit stalls, occupied the great square 
and some of the side streets. Peasants strolled 
about inspecting the various commodities exposed 
for sale and chatting gaily with acquaintances. 
I was struck by the dignified aspect of the men 
as they passed along staff in hand. It was some- 
what chilly, and almost all wore a long, ample 
cloak — one corner thrown over the opposite 
shoulder, toga fashion. Some of these cloaks 
had fur collars. The graceful folds gave a touch 
of the antique to the shrouded figures. 

238 



INTO ITALY— VENICE— FERRARA 

In the square stands a noble statue of Savon- 
arola, one of Ferrara's most illustrious sons. 
He was born there, and, though he joined the 
Friars Preachers at Bologna and gained his 
greatest fame at Florence, he spent some years 
as a preacher in the city of his birth. 

Tablets setting forth the memories of such 
worthies as Mazzini, Garibaldi, Giordano Bruno, 
and the like, did not impress me with the idea of 
Ferrara's staunch Catholicity. Garibaldi, in 
particular, figured everywhere; streets, squares, 
gardens, and terraces boasted of bearing his 
name as though it were a special honor. 

It was in the venerable Cathedral that I was 
permitted to say Mass on the morning after my 
arrival. The waiter at my hotel seemed some- 
what surprised that I should go out so early, 
before coffee, even! However, he directed me to 
the Cathedral with much perspicuity, and I 
made my way thither without difficulty. 

Its position on one side of the principal 
square, the Piazza di S. Crispino, is very fine. 
The exterior of the edifice, as the illustration 
shows, is remarkably beautiful, in spite of modern 
disfigurements. Its air of hallowed antiquity 
impresses one at first sight. The church dates 
from the twelfth century, but it has been repeat- 
edly modernized, especially during the seven- 
teenth and eighteenth centuries. The west front 

239 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

and the tower are the finest portions remaining; 
the latter, built in 1412, is renowned for its 
grace of style. 

The interior is disappointing on account of 
modern additions and decorations, altogether un- 
becoming the style of the original structure. 
It is worthy of note that one of the popes, 
Urban III, who died at Ferrara in 1187, was 
laid to rest here, and that his successor, Gregory 
VIII, was elected Sovereign Pontiff in this very 
church. 

In spite of the inferior style of architecture 
and decorations, there are many pleasing features 
about the interior of Ferrara Cathedral; one of 
them is a pervading dimness, which (at least 
in early morning, when I saw it) conceals many 
defects and adds an air of mysticism to an 
otherwise ordinary-looking church. There are 
also some quaint side chapels, which struck me 
as very attractive, and some dark wood panelling 
in the sacristy and adjoining chapels adds greatly 
to the general effect. When the hour arrived 
to betake myself to the station again, I did so 
with a feeling of satisfaction that I had been 
able to spend even so short a time in the curious 
but interesting old city, which I had often read 
about, but had scarcely hoped ever to see. 



240 



XVIII 
FLORENCE 



241 



XVIII 
FLORENCE 

THE route from Ferrara to Florence is through 
Bologna. It would have been interesting, 
had time permitted, to have explored even cur- 
sorily so famous a city; but it would have been 
at the expense of the still more famous Florence, 
so we left it behind. The glimpses of scenery 
gained between Bologna and Florence were 
charming but elusive. The railway reminded 
one of our own Metropolitan; for no sooner 
were we out of one tunnel than we dashed into 
another. There was this difference, however; 
in place of a dimly lighted underground station 
whenever one emerged from the darkness, there 
were here lovely pictures — all too brief, it is 
true — of mountain and valley, woodland and 
river, and villages nestling among vineyards and 
olive trees, such as an artist would revel in. 

Florence was reached too late in the evening 
to permit of anything beyond refreshment and 
rest after a day's travel. The mosquito-curtains 
attached to my bed in the hotel aroused un- 

243 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

pleasant reflections. True, it was November, and 
the nights were cool, but the presence of the 
curtains suggested caution. I discreetly shrouded 
myself behind them and congratulated myself 
with a chuckle of satisfaction on the display 
of prudence, when, in the dead of night, I heard 
the tiny clarion of at least one baffled foe resound- 
ing through the darkness. Some of my friends 
have tried to persuade me that the mosquito was 
probably roused to activity by the shaking out 
of the curtains within whose folds he had secured 
a retreat from the chilly air of an autumn night; 
but I am loth to lose the credit of a bona-fide 
adventure with the dreaded insect. Moreover, I 
met with a traveler, not many days later, who 
had been badly bitten, through want of pre- 
caution. So I feel myself justified in maintain- 
ing my first impression. 

I suppose the Duomo is the first church a 
stranger instinctively makes for in Florence, when 
bent on sightseeing. We had said Mass at a 
pretty early hour at a church near the hotel, 
remarkable for little beyond the bad taste of 
its decorations and the extremely distracting way 
in which the Mass-servers (decrepit old gentle- 
men generally) persisted in shouting the responses 
at full lung power. Then, after an early break- 
fast, we sallied forth to the Duomo, S. Maria 
del Fiore. 

244 



FLORENCE 

Some buildings impress one at first sight with 
their overwhelming magnificence; the Cathedral 
at Florence is one of these. As the stranger 
comes within sight of this truly colossal church, 
shining like some great jewel under the brilliant 
glow of a southern sun, he stands to gaze in 
reverent silence. Its magnificent facade, finished 
in 1886 only, is faced, like the rest of its exterior 
walls, with colored marbles — chiefly pale rose, 
white, and black. Everywhere the eye ranges 
over delicate carving and tracery, all in the 
same precious stone. Artistic statues of white 
marble are ranged in their several niches; richly 
colored pictures in mosaic surmount each of 
the three entrances; the portals are heavy bronze 
gates, wrought with exquisite workmanship in 
high relief. In its beauty of material and wealth 
of magnificent ornament, it is doubtful whether 
any other modern building can compare with 
this wonderful work of art, which has taken 
so many centuries to complete that its slow 
progress gave rise to a proverb, and thus when 
a Florentine spoke of anything destined to re- 
main unfinished he would compare it with S. 
Maria del Fiore. 

The Cathedral is surmounted by a splendid 
dome, set upon three smaller ones. It is the 
work of Brunelleschi, and is believed to be the 
most beautiful cupola in the world and to have 

245 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

furnished Michael Angelo with the model for 
that of St. Peter's in Rome. The story goes 
that the great artist, when told that he had now 
an opportunity of surpassing the dome of Florence, 
replied, " I will make her sister dome larger, 
yes, but not more beautiful." 

Arnolfo del Cambio, the first architect of the 
Cathedral, received instructions from the Floren- 
tines to raise a building which would excel any- 
thing yet seen. He began it in 1298, and after 
his death the renowned Florentine artist Giotto 
took up the work. To his genius is owing the 
graceful Campanile, 276 feet high, which rises on 
the right of the fagade, completely detached 
from the Cathedral, and on the site, as it is 
supposed, of the ancient little Church of S. 
Zenobio, frequented by the Seven Founders of 
the Servite Order. 

This, in the opinion of all competent judges, 
is the gem of the buildings. Though critics 
have been found to complain of the over-rich 
decoration of the facade, no one dares to speak 
a word against this splendid tower. Its grace 
and delicate beauty could scarcely be surpassed. 
It is built from base to summit of many-colored 
marbles, and adorned with the most artistic 
sculptured statues and bas-reliefs, and intricate 
carvings and mosaic. It was the sight of this 
matchless work of art when still unfinished 

246 



FLORENCE 

that drew from an unfortunate citizen of Verona 
the exclamation that the wealth of two kingdoms 
could scarcely suffice to build such a monument. 
For his luckless criticism he was thrown into 
prison, nor was he allowed to leave the city 
many weeks after till he had been convinced 
by a sight of the public treasury that the Floren- 
tines, did they but choose, were rich enough 
to build their whole city of marble. 

The interior of S. Maria del Fiore is at first 
sight disappointing. From the graceful statuary 
and delicate sculpture, the brilliant mosaics and 
richly-tinted marbles of the exterior, one passes 
into a church which strikes one as somber to a 
fault. The radiance of an Italian sky is subdued 
by the deep-toned glass filling the small windows. 
It takes some time for the eye to become accus- 
tomed to the surrounding gloom, especially if 
one has left bright sunshine outside. But, by 
degrees, the vastness of this splendidly constructed 
building, unapparent at first glance on account 
of the admirable proportion of its parts, begins 
to dawn upon the beholder. The Cathedral is 
more than 500 feet long and is 154 in height 
from pavement to vaulted roof. The dim grandeur 
which characterizes this magnificent church is 
produced by the rich tints of the stained glass 
in the windows dating from the fifteenth century, 
and to some artistic minds its mysterious 

247 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

gloom is one of the great beauties of the 
building. 

The walls are of a somewhat monotonous, 
gray tone, relieved by little ornament; the mas- 
sive pillars of the nave are not strikingly graceful 
and only moderately decorated with sculpture ; the 
pavement, rich in many-colored marbles, and 
the lofty roof of the dome, resplendent with 
frescoes, scarcely succeed in dispelling the idea 
that the whole interior is pervaded by one uni- 
form neutral tint. 

Among the many works of art that adorn the 
Cathedral, two may be specially mentioned. The 
silver shrine of St. Zenobius, the ancient patron 
of Florence, in the apse of the choir, is a mar- 
vellous specimen of metal work designed by 
Ghiberti in 1440. In the choir, too, is the last 
work of Michael Angelo, an unfinished Pieta, 
executed when the great master was 81 years 
of age, and a treasure of art universally ad- 
mired. 

One interesting feature in the church is the 
fact that the two windows at the western ex- 
tremity of the nave are unreal. From some 
difficulties in the construction which caused a 
contraction in the proposed length of the build- 
ing, these windows are unavoidably false ones. 
From the interior the circumstance could never 
be detected, as they are so cleverly filled with 

248 




The Cathedral, Florence. 




Cloisters of St. Maria Novella, Florence. 



FLORENCE 

glittering mosaic, in imitation of the style and 
coloring of the glass used in the other windows, 
as to catch the light from within and thus pro- 
duce the appearance of being transparent. 

As one leaves the Duomo by the western 
entrance, the Baptistery of Florence, the quaint 
little octagonal building dedicated to St. John the 
Baptist, comes into view only a few paces from 
the Cathedral itself. It is encrusted with dark 
green and white marble in the style of the Cathe- 
dral, and is entered by magnificent gates of 
gilded bronze, unequalled in the world, the work 
of Lorenzo Ghiberti in 1447. They were declared 
by Michael Angelo to be worthy to become the 
portals of Paradise. The decoration of these 
superb gates consists of a series of reliefs rep- 
resenting in fifty panels the chief incidents in the 
life of St. John, the patron, scenes in Our Lord's 
life and sufferings, and subjects taken from Old 
Testament history. 

The building itself is said to have been anciently 
a temple of Mars, and previous to the erection of 
a larger church, served the place of a Cathedral. 
Its walls and roofs are covered with fine mosaics, 
and there are many marble statues. The font, 
in which every infant born in Florence has to be 
baptized, dates only from 1658. A more ancient 
one, brought from another old church to this 
in 1128, has now disappeared. The pavement is 

249 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

of fine black and white marble. A splendid 
monument to Pope John XXIII, who died in 
Florence, stands in this building. 

We discovered, too late, that in the sacristy- 
attached to the baptistery are preserved some 
very beautiful embroidered miniatures, which 
formed a part of a set of vestments. They 
represent scenes in the life of St. John. We 
missed seeing them, as it is necessary to apply 
to the priest in charge, who keeps them under 
lock and key. 

Perhaps the next interesting church to the 
Duomo is S. Croce, the Westminster Abbey of 
Florence, for within it lie the illustrious dead. 
It rose simultaneously with S. Maria del Fiore, 
was designed by the same architect, and, strange 
to say, was also left incomplete as to its facade 
till the middle of the last century, when the 
present somewhat showy front of white and 
colored marble was provided, mainly at the 
expense of an English Catholic resident in Florence. 

The interior is solemn and grand, if somewhat 
cold and severe. It was built for Franciscans 
and on that account the pavement is of brick 
merely, but many marble tombstones have been 
let into the more homely material. 

The simple architecture of the church was 
formerly adorned by magnificent frescoes by 
Giotto and his school. It will hardly be believed 

250 



FLORENCE 

that an artist of a later age and of dissimilar 
tastes caused them to be whitewashed over that 
he might paint frescoes upon the wall-spaces 
more in accordance with the depraved style 
then in vogue. Luckily the precious works of 
art thus obscured have benefited by the vandalism. 
Those which have been cleansed from their coating 
of lime have emerged fresher and more perfect 
than others of the same date which in other places 
have been preserved untouched. Unfortunately 
the expense of the cleansing process is so con- 
siderable that only one or two frescoes have 
been as yet rescued. 

The monuments of S. Croce constitute its 
special interest. Here in the chapel bearing his 
family name lies the great sculptor, Michael 
Angelo Buonarotti, his tomb surmounted by a 
bust which is held to be a speaking likeness. 
Here also is buried Niccolo Macchiavelli, the 
celebrated statesman and historian. Dante, whom 
Florence is proud to claim as a son, does not 
rest under the shadow of the monument raised 
to his memory, though the Florentines made 
every effort to secure his remains for their city. 
Galileo lies here and the artist Ghiberti, and 
there are monuments to many famous citizens 
who have gained fame for Florence as well as 
for themselves; many of these are buried else- 
where. 

251 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

S. Croce is still served by Franciscans, but, 
like so many other religious Houses in United 
Italy, this also has been taken possession of by 
a paternal Government and only a few Fathers 
are tolerated as custodians of the famous church 
which Florence owes to the zeal and energy of 
members of an Order which was once so power- 
ful in the city. 

S. Lorenzo, a fine building in classical style, 
owes much of its interior decoration to the genius 
of Michael Angelo. In the Chapel of the Blessed 
Sacrament is a beautiful marble statue of the 
Infant Jesus, dating from the early part of the 
fifteenth century, and considered a marvelous 
work of art. It was this statue that Savonarola 
caused to be carried in a procession of children 
through the city on the memorable occasion 
when every book or picture of immoral tendency 
was brought out and burned by the citizens at 
his instigation. S. Lorenzo, by the bye, was a 
church with which the great Dominican orator 
was much connected. Some of his most power- 
ful sermons were preached within its walls. 

The sacristies attached to this church contain 
many valuable objects of art. That known as 
the New Sacristy was designed by Michael 
Angelo and contains many of his noblest works, 
most of them splendid monuments to members 
of the Medici family. 

252 



FLORENCE 

Behind the choir is the truly gorgeous Medi- 
cean Chapel, the mausoleum of that famous 
Florentine family. It was commenced by the 
Grand Duke Ferdinand I in 1604. The building 
is octagonal, and is surmounted by a dome. 
The whole of the interior is lined from floor to 
roof with costly marbles and precious stones, 
disposed in intricate design. The interior of 
the dome was intended to have been inlaid with 
lapis-lazuli, but the immense cost prevented the 
completion of the design, and a Florentine artist, 
Benvenuti, painted it with frescoes of subjects 
taken from the Old and New Testaments, in 
1827. Many interruptions took place in the 
progress of the work, and the costly pavement 
in Florentine mosaic, commenced in 1888, was 
still unfinished when I saw it. 

The chapel is not regarded as a specimen of 
artistic merit, but is famous on account of its 
grand proportions and the display of lavish mag- 
nificence in its decorations. At the period when 
it was begun a rumor was current that it was 
intended to receive the precious treasure of the 
Holy Sepulcher, which had been promised to 
the Grand Duke by the Emir of the Druses on 
condition of pecuniary assistance. It is more 
commonly supposed that the costly memorial 
was intended from the first to become a mauso- 
leum for the Medici. 

253 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

Opening from the cloister of S. Lorenzo is 
the famous Laurentian Library, rich in precious 
manuscripts and early printed books. Some of 
the manuscripts, which number upwards of 10,000, 
are of priceless worth; they range from the 
fifth to the fifteenth century. 

There are so many attractive objects in such 
an artistic center as Florence that it is hard to 
choose between them when one begins to speak 
of them ; and yet it would be impossible to touch 
upon all. One very interesting church, how- 
ever, must not be omitted — the Annunziata, in 
charge of the Servites. It was built in 1250, 
but has seen many changes and embellishments 
since that time. 

Its western door is approached through a 
small square court surrounded by an arcade; 
on the walls of this little cloister are valuable 
old frescoes, protected now by glass screens. 
The earliest of these pictures is a Nativity by 
Baldovinetti, a Florentine painter of the fifteenth 
century, whose works are now extremely rare. 
Other paintings represent incidents in the life 
of the famous Servite, St. Philip Benizi, including 
many of his miracles. Others depict the life 
of Our Lady. Many of these frescoes are by 
Andrea del Sarto, a renowned Florentine painter, 
and some of the figures represent illustrious 
artists and musicians of the sixteenth century; 

254 



FLORENCE 

among them are the sculptor Sansovino and 
Andrea himself with his wife, Lucretia. 

The interior of the Annunziata is rich in paint- 
ings and mural decorations. A curious custom 
was prevalent in the Middle Ages of suspending 
from the roof of this church waxen images of 
eminent living persons; those of Popes or foreign 
sovereigns on one side and those of Florentine 
citizens on the other. It is said that even Turks 
sent effigies here in gratitude to Our Lady for 
favors granted them. 

The choir is a circular marble erection and 
stands under the dome. The High Altar has a 
beautifully-carved canopy of sixteenth century 
work. An altar-piece of Perugino is to be found 
in one of the side chapels; it represents the 
Assumption. A fresco in the cloister by Andrea 
del Sarto, called the Madonna del Sacco, because 
St. Joseph, who figures in the picture, has a sack 
of corn by his side, is considered the painter's 
finest work; it excited the enthusiastic admira- 
tion of Michael Angelo himself, and has met with 
high praise from competent critics for the grace 
of form and beauty of color which it displays. 

No lover of sacred art can visit Florence 
without going to the ancient Dominican convent 
of S. Marco; for there are to be seen some of the 
greatest treasures of which the city can boast. 
Within its walls lived the world-renowned and 

2.55 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

saintly painter, Fra Giovanni da Fiesole, known 
universally now as Fra Angelico. The cloisters, 
chapter-houses, staircase, corridors, and dormitory 
all contain precious frescoes from his hand. In 
the chapter-house is his well-known Crucifixion. 
At the head of the staircase is the beautiful 
Annunciation, one of the finest and most widely 
known of all his paintings. An inscription under- 
neath invites the passer-by to say an Ave. In the 
dormitory, since divided into tiny cells, a fresco is 
painted on the wall over the place where the 
head of each bed formerly stood; many of these 
are by the holy painter himself, and others by 
his brother, Fra Benedetto, though many of the 
latter were designed by Fra Angelico. Most of 
these beautiful works of art are in good pres- 
ervation. 

In the cell formerly occupied by St. Antonine, 
who was a Friar of the convent, is a portrait of 
the saint by Fra Bartolommeo, an artist of later 
date. The vestments of St. Antonine are also 
to be seen there. 

Passing through a chamber which was for- 
merly a chapel the visitor gains the two small 
cells occupied by Savonarola when Prior of S. 
Marco. Pope Leo X granted an indulgence for 
visiting them. Within are preserved the famous 
Dominican's hair-shirt, rosary, and chair, also 
autograph manuscript copies of some of his ser- 

256 



FLORENCE 

mons and a portion of wood from the pile on 
which he was burned. A portrait of him, attrib- 
uted to Fra Bartolommeo, hangs on the wall. 
A modern bust, imitated from an earlier work, 
stands in the ante-chamber. A genealogical tree 
of the Friars of S. Marco, preserved in another 
cell, bears witness to the admiration shown towards 
the great but ill-fated Dominican, in the partial 
obliteration of Savonarola's name by the kisses 
pressed upon it by his numerous sympathizers. 

The library contains a priceless collection of 
illuminated choral books from various suppressed 
monasteries of the city, as well as twenty-four 
belonging to S. Marco. More than half of the 
latter were painted by Fra Benedetto. Some 
of these books contain work by another talented 
Friar of the Convent, Fra Eustachio, whose 
beautiful miniature paintings are of great renown. 
The glowing colors, brilliant gold-decoration, and 
lovely figures portrayed in these wonderful illu- 
minations, it would be vain to attempt to describe ; 
they must be seen to be realized. The whole 
of these treasures have been seized by the Govern- 
ment, and are now regarded as the property of 
the State. S. Marco is merely a museum to 
which admission may be gained by payment 
of a small fee. Only a small portion of the 
buildings is permitted to be used by the Friars, 
whose number is not large. The church con- 

257 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

tains some fine later paintings and decorations. 
Its chief artistic treasure is a crucifix by Giotto 
over the principal entrance. The body of the 
great archbishop, St. Antonine, rests in the left 
transept. 

Florence possesses art collections almost in- 
numerable; the most important are that con- 
tained in the Uffizi Gallery, belonging to the 
State, and that preserved in the Pitti Palace; 
the latter collection may be said to form at 
the present day an appendix to the former. 
The Uffizi are the government offices; they stand 
close to the Palazzo Vecchio, or Old Palace, a 
grim-looking, fortress -like building of brown stone, 
surmounted by a slender, graceful campanile, sin- 
gular in shape at the summit. The Palazzo is 
situated at the corner of the great square known as 
the " Piazza della Signioria," which in the Middle 
Ages was the center of the political life of the city. 
Here, where, as in Venice, tame pigeons strut 
so boldly before the feet of the wayfarer that 
he is in nervous dread of crushing out the life 
from their graceful little forms, stood the blazing 
pile in whose fiery heart Savonarola bravely 
suffered. 

In the spacious galleries of the Uffizi are 
gathered together innumerable gems of paint- 
ing and sculpture to form one of the richest 
collections of works of art now in existence. 

258 



FLORENCE 

Large halls are devoted to pictures by the 
various masters classed under the Italian, Tus- 
can, Venetian, French, Flemish, German, and 
Dutch schools; but paintings by many of these 
occupy positions in various corridors and gal- 
leries in other parts of the building. Then there 
are works of earlier date — Greek, Byzantine, 
and the like, as well as more modern por- 
traits. 

Every great master is represented there — 
Fra Angelico, Fra Bartolommeo, Fra Filippo 
Lippi, Perugino, Botticelli, Ghirlandaio, Pinto- 
ricchio, Titian, Andrea del Sarto, and others of 
the earlier centuries of art; Raphael, Guido, 
Rubens, Vandyck, Velasquez, Murillo, and Carlo 
Dolci of a later school. To attempt to enumerate 
them or their works would be to write a cata- 
logue of many pages. It is enough to say that 
a visitor only moderately interested in art may 
find pleasant occupation for. many hours in wan- 
dering through the halls of the Uffizi, while an 
enthusiast will consider many days insufficient 
to explore the treasures of painting and sculpture 
hoarded there. 

It is from one of the upper windows that 
one gains the most charming view of the city 
possible. Amid the forest of houses and laby- 
rinth of streets, the " Golden Arno," glides 
along close by the walls of the Uffizi. Across 

259 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

it, near at hand, springs that quaintest of antique 
bridges, known as the " Ponte Vecchio." It dates 
from the fourteenth century. At one time the 
butchers of Florence had their shops in the 
curious little houses which cluster on both sides 
of the roadway on the end arches of either bank; 
later on they had to make way for goldsmiths. 
The odd little red-tiled buildings overhang the 
water; seen from a distance they look like dove- 
cotes. Above them, supported by the houses 
on the eastern side and by pillars and circular 
arches over the central span, runs a closed gallery, 
constructed in the sixteenth century to connect 
the Palazzo Vecchio with the Pitti Palace. This 
wonderful passage is nearly 2,000 feet in length 
and is hung with numerous engravings and 
paintings, many of the latter being portraits of 
illustrious men. 

It is possible, except on Sundays, to pass 
through this long corridor and enter the halls 
in which the Pitti collection is exhibited. It 
is not likely that many visitors would care to 
do this under ordinary circumstances, for there 
is too much to be seen in both galleries to make 
one visit suffice for both and, in any case, one 
has to pay a distinct fee for admission to each. 

Our drive to the Pitti Palace has been im- 
pressed upon my memory by the amusing inci- 
dent of a contest between rival cabbies desirous 

260 



FLORENCE 

of our patronage, and of the volubility with 
which the unsuccessful one rained scornful crit- 
icisms on the age, appearance, and career of our 
chosen steed, to the intense delight of a throng 
of eager listeners. The Palace is a spacious 
building constructed of brown stone in enor- 
mous blocks, designed in the fifteenth century 
by Brunelleschi, the architect of the dome of 
the Cathedral; it was built for Luca Pitti, a 
wealthy citizen, and became in after ages the 
residence of the Grand Dukes of Tuscany. The 
art treasures contained in its saloons and galleries 
were placed there by the Medici family after 
they had become sovereign princes. It is a 
much smaller collection than that at the Uffizi, 
but contains several notable pictures of the 
great masters. Many of Raphael's well-known 
paintings are to be seen here, such as the Madonna 
del Gran Duca, that known as " della Seggiola," 
etc. Michael Angelo's celebrated picture of the 
Three Fates; one of the finest works of Andrea 
del Sarto, the Dispute Concerning the Holy 
Trinity, together with a large number of other 
paintings of his; some beautiful specimens of 
the work of Fra Bartolommeo, Lippi, Botticelli, 
Titian, and others, are all to be found at the 
Pitti. Many of the halls are finely frescoed and 
there are some splendid specimens of inlaid work 
in the costly marble tables composed of por- 

261 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

phyry, malachite, lapis-lazuli, etc., that stand in 
various quarters of the building. 

These are only two of the numberless public 
and private art galleries of Florence. Some of 
the churches, too, possess very valuable paint- 
ings by great masters. S. Maria Novella, for 
example, has some fine frescoes by Ghirlandaio 
— some of their smaller figures are said to have 
been drawn by his boy-pupil, Michael Angelo; 
Santo Spirito and the Carmine have paintings 
by Filippino Lippi; the Badia, or Benedictine 
Church, possesses a beautiful " Madonna appear- 
ing to St. Bernard," by the same artist; these 
are a few out of many. The only fresco of 
Perugino to be found in the city is one which is 
considered his finest work of the kind. It is 
preserved in the chapter-house of the Carmelite 
Convent of S. Maria Maddalena de' Pazzi. 

These are not a third of the treasures pre- 
served in the wonderful city on the banks of 
the Arno; museums, libraries, academies innu- 
merable have each their objects of interest. But 
besides the many storehouses of art which Florence 
possesses, the city has other attractions of a 
different order. The scenery in its vicinity is 
of great loveliness; from its gardens and shaded 
promenades are obtainable the most charming 
views of mountain and vineyard and shady 
valley, all forming a worthy setting to the pic- 

262 



FLORENCE 

turesque churches and palaces and the noble 
modern buildings of which Florentines are justly 
proud. 

The memories that cling to the city are mani- 
fold. Dante, Galileo, Cimabue, Giotto, Peru- 
gino, da Vinci, Ghiberti, Masaccio, del Sarto, 
Ghirlandaio, Michael Angelo, and a host of 
other celebrities — many of them sons of Florence 
— have trodden its streets and dwelt beneath 
its roofs. Fra Angelico, Fra Bartolommeo, Fra 
Filippo Lippi were worthy inmates — all of them 
— of one or other of its convents; for the scan- 
dalous charges made by Vasari against the moral 
character of the latter are incompatible with 
more recently discovered contemporary evidence, 
and the breath of calumny has never dared to 
defile the memory of either of the other two. 

Amid the mingled minor recollections of the 
place stand out in prominence the curiosity 
aroused by the Benedictine habit among the 
Protestant English and American residents in 
our hotel, and the pertinacity of guides and 
sellers of guide-books in thrusting themselves 
upon our notice on every opportunity. As to 
the former, it had only to be met with indif- 
ference, and then what had been a novelty sub- 
sided very quickly into the commonplace; but 
the guide - book and memento business was 
always a nuisance. And yet the liveliness of 

263 



RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS 

the vendors was sometimes distinctly amusing. 
One sharp fellow was exhibiting his wares on one 
occasion, and when he found Italian useless, 
dropped into French. I declined his overtures 
and inadvertently, from force of recent habit, 
spoke in German. The youth was equal to 
the occasion, and at once repeated his persuasive 
arguments in that language. I accordingly an- 
swered him in rapid English and met with a 
like response. One could only laugh at such 
persistency. 

Delightful as everything was, the time came 
when Florence had to give way to Rome, and 
our faces to be set towards the Eternal City. 
With Rome these pages are not concerned; of 
of those, therefore, who have so kindly rambled 
with me, by means of these pages, through the 
scenes I have endeavored to depict, I will here 
take leave. 



PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 

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